


Eat the Rich

by LowScribe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Akaashi Keiji is a Tease, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Bokuto is Suffering, Consensual Sex, Crack, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Relationships, Humor, Kozume Kenma is So Done, Kozume Kenma is a Little Shit, Lawyer Akaashi Keiji, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pining Akaashi Keiji, Pool Boy Bokuto Koutarou, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Akaashi Keiji, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rich Akaashi Keiji, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, Swearing, Top Bokuto Koutarou, come along for the ride, consent is sexy y'all, mentions of praise kink, pun intended, self-indulgent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LowScribe/pseuds/LowScribe
Summary: Akaashi's got a new pool boy and, god, does he want a bite.You know what they say. Ask and thou shall receive.---(If this were p***hub, this fic would've been called "Local Rich Twink Gets Railed By His Beefy Pool Boy")
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 79
Kudos: 509
Collections: Finito.





	1. Bokuto, You Glorious Bastard...

Akaashi Keiji prides himself on a number of things but at the forefront of them is his ability to always, _always_ keep his composure. His reputation of being “impenetrably calm” in the legal field proves as much. With every movement accounted for, like a bird of prey, he waits silently and discreetly, swooping in for the kill at any opportune moment. It’s taken years of experience and conditioning; not a single twitch of his brows permissible if unnecessary.

As luck (or lack thereof) would have it, Akaashi finds himself bemoaning his current predicament. With every passing second that he’s in the presence of that chiseled body — hard at work near the far end of the estate’s yard — his resolve is wavering dangerously. Muscles ripple with each movement the man makes and Akaashi feels his prized composure slipping at an unprecedented rate, a low tug in his belly settling in its place. He’s battling to retain some semblance of level-headedness but if you ask him, it’s a pretty unfair fight.

Akaashi watches with rapt (read: masochistic) attention as the other man stands to brush sweat off his temples and card a hand through his messy locks, black and white strands ruffling every which way from the movement. Suddenly, a barely coherent thought violently tumbles its way through his mind.

_God, I wish it were my hands on him instead_.

With a not-so-subtle smack of palm to forehead, Akaashi decides enough is enough. If he sits and observes for any longer, he’ll be taking a backseat to his insanity any minute now. Besides, his intention in coming out to the patio in the first place was to have his nose buried in a book for the better part of the morning. He’d been dying to find time to read it for weeks! If Akaashi were a lesser man, he‘d be pouting.

_Damn you, Kenma. A little warning would’ve been nice_ , he thinks bitterly.

Now _there’s_ a solution. Push all the blame on his housemate for hiring the new pool boy _without_ telling him. Akaashi had had to find out the hard way about their new employee; his heart clenching a little thinking about it.

\- 

_Nothing could’ve prepared Akaashi for the marble statue that was currently standing on his front doorstep — a loud “Hey, hey, hey!” matched with a blinding grin announcing the stranger’s sudden appearance. In merely receiving a blank stare, the man amends his boisterous tone with a sheepish rub at his neck and a marginally nervous “I- I’m Bokuto Koutarou. You know.. your new pool boy?”._

_In the presence of the (very) attractive stranger, Akaashi realizes with a start that the only article of clothing on his own body is the dark red cashmere robe he got as a client’s thank you gift last Christmas. He also regretfully tacks on the note that he chose_ today _of all days to wear it._

_Before he can internally attempt to strangle himself for his state of relative undress, Kenma passes by the front entrance right then, only to temporarily stop and acknowledge “Oh, Bokuto. … You’re late”._

_Seemingly oblivious to Akaashi’s inner turmoil, the man shifts his attention and perks up at the sight of a familiar face. All the short man gets in return is a bright, albeit apologetic, grin and a good-natured “Sorry, Kenma!”._

_This was the second blinding smile (no, he’s not counting) to grace the man’s face in under two minutes and Akaashi wonders to himself if he should take a picture and keep it for the days he needs an extra kick. Shaking his head to clear his ridiculous thoughts, he turns back to the matters at hand._

_With the stranger-_ Bokuto’s _credibility verified, Akaashi extends a short greeting (“Welcome, Bokuto-san. I’m Akaashi Keiji.”) and gestures for the tall man to follow him to the back of the house. There was no warning whatsoever to brace the darker-haired male for his guest’s absolutely enthralled reaction to the expansive yard. If the stoic lawyer’s lips quirked up a bit upon witnessing Bokuto’s animated “Uwahhh!”, complete with a small hop and fists clenched in excitement, no one would ever know._

_It seems the large ball of energy has little grasp on the boundaries of professionalism (as evident from earlier if not right now) as he suddenly whirls around and practically shouts, “You live here?!”._

_Taken aback by the enthusiastically baffled question, Akaashi plainly responds, “Indeed I do, Bokuto-san. Kenma does as well but surely you knew that already.”_

_“Huh? Oh yeah! I know him through my best friend, Kuroo. Have you met him?”_

_“Kenma’s mentioned him in passing but I have yet to personally meet him.”_

_“Oh, okay. Nevermind that though. Oh my_ god _! Kuroo’s raved about how awesome your home is before but I just thought you had a nice place down in Kawasaki or something. But_ here _, with all_ this _?” Bokuto is blinking owlishly back at him with (in his opinion) an adorable expression of disbelief, gold eyes comically wide._ **_Fuck, he’s cute_** _._

_“I’m going to be honest with you right now. When Kenma sent me the address to a house in Futako-tamagawa, I thought he was just trying to fuck with me and lose me somewhere. He’s done it before.” The man’s face suddenly twists into what must be petulant indignation as he seems to be recalling the previous event mentioned. Just as quickly, his features suddenly smooth into a solemn expression as he slides into his next torrent of words._

_“Yet here I am,_ un _fucked with and very much not lost. You know, I bet he’s just playing mind games with me. Next time, my guard will be down and I’ll trust him to give me directions again. He’ll send me to some obscure and unreachable place and I’ll never get home. I’ll never play volleyball again. Your pool won’t be cleaned. It’s a lose-lose situation. Well… Kenma wins. But I’m not acknowledging that. He’s lucky Kuroo loves him. … Not to say I don’t love him! He’s great and all but sometimes he just really-”_

_Akaashi doesn’t know what comes over him but his hand doesn’t make it to his mouth fast enough as a breathy laugh escapes past his lips; shoulders shaking in tandem with the quiet chuckles. His head bows slightly and his eyes nearly squeeze shut at the force of the unexpected reaction._

_His habits finally seem to catch up to him as he raises the back of his hand to cover the small display of amusement._

_It’s only when he notices that Bokuto has stopped talking entirely that Akaashi lifts his eyes to focus on the other man again, a small grin yet to fade from his lips. He discovers an odd expression looking back at him, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed slightly. The lawyer is quick to amend his unintentional interruption of Bokuto’s small tirade._

_Akaashi clears his throat and schools his features. “Ah, I’m sorry, Bokuto-san. I didn’t mean to-”_

_“You’re really pretty when you smile,” Bokuto suddenly blurts._

_A silence settles over them and Akaashi feels a blazing heat rise into his cheeks at the unexpected declaration. He’s barely aware of the fact that his mouth is a bit open in surprise; his brain is running a mile a minute trying to process the words. The only conclusion he comes to?_

**_God is real_** _._

_Don’t get him wrong. He’s been called similar, even raunchier, terms before. He’s had his fair share of lovers and suitors who’ve come ready with a plethora of praises. Though in those cases, he either politely thanks them and moves along or he silences them with well-placed kisses and high-pitched moans. Again, the cycle of routine is being broken by this sculpted, verbally unfiltered, handsome_ son of a bitch _._ **_Are my ears on fire? I’m willing to bet my career on it because they sure as hell_ ** **feel like it** _._

_“I- uh- ahem- excuse me?” Akaashi stutters out with difficulty._

_“I just said that out fucking loud, didn’t I?” It’s more of a statement than a question but Bokuto’s face, to his credit (and much to Akaashi’s envy), isn’t even the slightest bit red. The only identifiable emotions present on the man’s features are a combination of self-deprecating resignation and absolutely dead inside. There’s even a hint of a smirk on his lips, as if he’s distantly amused about how he practically just ended his own life with a single sentence._

_“Uhm yes, you did, Bokuto-san.” He replies with a hint of uncertainty._

_“Okay, well.. I stand by what I said. You’re really fucking pretty. There! Now, I’m going to go clean that huge-ass pool over there,” throwing a thumb over his shoulder in a vague direction, “-and try not to drown myself in the process.”_

_With that, the black-and-white-haired man spins on his heel and flees from the scene; leaving Akaashi to cope with whatever the fresh fuck just happened. He’s still a little speechless._ **_Well, no one’s ever complimented me quite like_ ** **that** **_before_** _._

_There it is again. It’s bubbling in his stomach and creeping up his throat with little resistance from Akaashi. He bends at the waist and lets out a laugh of astonishment and giddy amusement. He can’t remember how long it’s been since he’s last expressed himself so freely and loudly, regardless who his company was. Akaashi finds the other man’s honesty, held and spoken freely without expecting anything in return, to be so… refreshing._

_He feels light and the sensation only heightens when he straightens back up to find Bokuto looking back at him. Even from where he‘s standing, Akaashi catches the pleased grin, eyes crinkled in delight at making the man laugh (even at his own expense), and the playful wink that’s thrown his way._

-

An unconscious smirk graces the lawyer’s lips as he gently rouses from his reverie; he belatedly notes that he’s still standing at the edge of the patio, unread book in hand. He shakes his head. _I can already tell I’ll have my hands full with that one_. And really, he does.

If Akaashi’s a stickler for anything, it would be being professional. As much as their earlier antics were humorous, he’s fully aware that the two of them share a boss-employee relationship. Even if it wasn’t his idea to begin with, Kenma and him do share the estate, whatever that may entail. If Bokuto’s working for Kenma, so is he for Akaashi as well. Besides, he doesn’t know if Bokuto’s even into men! It wouldn’t do well for them to toe the line of-

The lawyer is so deep in his own thoughts that the novel he’s holding slips from his fingers to the cement with a light thud; the sound causes the man to start. Staring down, Akaashi lets out a forlorn sigh upon seeing the volume lying face down, pages scrunched haphazardly against the ground. He knows without a doubt that they’re permanently bent and folded in odd places from the fall. _Fantastic_. _As if being cockblocked by my own moral compass wasn’t already enough to put a damper on my mood._

Without another thought, Akaashi bends forward to retrieve his fallen ~~dreams~~ book; a warm breeze slides across the back of his thighs as his robe rides up. His fingertips merely brush the cover when he’s suddenly interrupted by a loud splash coming from behind him. Struck by the notion that Bokuto might’ve actually decided to go through with his suicidal promise born from embarrassment, he whips his head in the direction of the pool.

Akaashi can honestly say he panics a little when the familiar head of black and white doesn’t resurface despite a few moments already passing. _Please for the love of Christ tell me Kenma didn’t hire a pool boy that can’t fucking swim! Oh my god, is that why he hired Bokuto??_

Thoughts other than his possibly homicidal housemate race through his mind as Akaashi sprints across their _large_ lawn ( _holy hell, why did we buy this house again?_ ), feet pounding with sharp _pat-pat-pats_ against the green turf. He makes it to the ledge and peers in, praying to whatever’s out there that he won’t find Bokuto ass-up in the water.

Just as he does so, the man in question rockets out of the water, his torso breaking the surface and sending watery shrapnel _everywhere_. He’s momentarily blinded by what seems to be half the damn pool coming out with Bokuto.

When the mist settles, the pool boy is found leaning heavily on the ledge with crossed forearms, spluttering to catch his breath. The lawyer pointedly ignores the way the tendons shift in sculpted arms, or how the defined muscles clench under the skin of the man’s abdomen with every strained cough. It’s for his own health, okay.

_God is testing me and I’m going to win_.

The panicked tension in Akaashi’s body falls away only for slight annoyance to replace it as he takes in the wet state of his robe. _Fantastic. Now I gotta try and get the chlorine smell out later._

He logs that issue away for later before turning his attention back to Bokuto. Blue eyes meet gold ones and it seems the other man had already been staring up at him. Bokuto jumps a little and quickly averts his attention, red creeping up his neck. Akaashi catches the way those eyes flick back to him, skimming over him from top to toe, before blushing more heavily and looking away again.

Curiously, Akaashi looks down to see what the fuss is about. The dark-haired man notes with minute surprise the way his now-soaked robe clings to his front, leaving little to the imagination. He offhandedly wonders what more the other man would’ve witnessed had he not worn any briefs today… _Maybe I should ask him if he likes what he sees._

Akaashi abruptly hits the pause button on his brain before it can come up with any other sinful thoughts. _Just because he’s blushing after seeing every nook and cranny on my body doesn’t mean he’s into it! Seeing your boss in something not that far from their birthday suit can be a pretty mortifying situation._

Akaashi waves his thoughts away (now’s _not_ the time for wondering if his subordinate bats for the same team)and clears his throat.

“Bokuto-san, are you alright?” He asks in what he hopes is a concerned manner.

“Oh, uh, y-yeah! Perfectly fine! Never been better. Fuckin’ _swell_!” Bokuto shoots him with a too-wide-to-be-believable flash of teeth.

_Is he… nervous?_

“You nearly drowned in my pool.” the lawyer states with a raised brow.

“I did _not_!” The man’s nervousness is quickly swapped out with mortal offense due to Akaashi’s accusation. “I can swim, for your information!”

He gives the pool boy an unimpressed look and quips, “Didn’t seem like it.”

Bokuto gives a dramatic gasp and whines petulantly. “ _Agaaashiiii!_ ”

The recipient of whining grimaces. “Please say my name correctly, Bokuto-san.”

The man huffs out a _hmph!_ and turns his nose up, arms crossed over his bare chest.

Realizing how off-topic they’d gotten, Akaashi attempts to salvage his attempts at figuring out why he was nearly left with a corpse floating in his pool like some poor rendition of the Great Gatsby.

“Fine. If you weren’t attempting to waterboard yourself, what were you _actually_ doing then, Bokuto-san?”

“Um.. taking a swim?” The man offers meekly in hopes that Akaashi will take the bait and drop the subject. _Okay, if he’s gonna play hard-to-get, let’s see how he likes this._

Akaashi feigns indifference and scoffs. “Swimming on the job for leisure purposes? I don’t think that’s in your job description, Bokuto-san. Perhaps I should let you go?”

“What- W-wait a minute!” Bokuto realizes his mistake and nearly trips over himself to amend his previous claim. “Okay, I wasn’t swimming. I-I can explain!”

The lawyer heaves an exasperated sigh. “Get on with it then. You did worry me, you know?”

“Oh, sorry about that…” The man sheepishly rubs a hand behind his neck and his lips purse before adding, “Alright, I guess I do owe you an explanation. … But if you weren’t gonna fire me before, you’ll definitely do it this time.”

“I can assure you that there’s a large chance that won’t happen, despite whatever you have to say.” 

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t hate me.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Promise?”

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi fixes the man with a glare to get on with it.

“Alright, alright! I got it!” The man puts up placating hands, as if to say ‘hold your damn horses’. What Akaashi finds peculiar though is the way Bokuto’s cheeks darken and his shoulders hunch like he’s trying to shrink into himself. The man turns his face away before rushing into an explanation that Akaashi could not have been less prepared for.

“I was in the middle of cleaning and, y’know, _minding my own business_.” Akaashi’s nose wrinkles at the accusatory tone because _what the fuck did I do??_ but Bokuto barrels on.

“ _Anyways_. I was scrubbing the deck and whatever but then I heard something fall. I looked over to check if you were okay and y-you were there- you- with- _ahem_ -” Bokuto attempts to clear his throat but the sound that comes out is more like he’s choked on his spit. With visible difficulty, he somehow manages to find the air to let out the rest of his rant in one breath.

“Y-you were bent over and your robe slid up and I could see your thighs and I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to look! And they’re _really_ nice thighs by the way and- oh my god do I ever shut the _fuck_ up. Holy shit- I did not just tell my boss he has nice thighs- _Oh my god._ ”

In a valiant attempt to preserve whatever’s left of his dignity, Bokuto’s jaw snaps shut with a resolute _click_. If he wasn’t trying to drown himself earlier, now was a really good time to entertain the idea.

While Bokuto mentally flails in the pool, Akaashi stands stock still on the pool deck — his face seemingly impassive as he vacantly stares at the man in the water. He’s not even sure why he’s still attempting to think today but he tries. By god, does he try. He fails spectacularly so instead he tries speaking, another challenge in itself. His mouth opens and closes a couple times, at a clear loss for words. In the end, the only thing, and the most regrettable to boot, that he manages to conjure up is a single question.

“You think my thighs are nice?”

Bokuto briefly halts his midway-to-hell breakdown to focus bewildered eyes on Akaashi.

“Uh, that’s what I just said?” Akaashi hums at the affirmation almost absentmindedly.

“Thank you.”

“... Y-you’re welcome??” Bokuto’s looking at him like he’s grown two heads. The lawyer brushes it off, pondering for a moment, before casually dropping his next question.

“Bokuto-san, do you like men?”

The man in question hesitates for a split second before giving him an expression that screams ‘ _Are you serious?_ ’. With no sign from Akaashi that he has any negative intentions, Bokuto shoots him a wordless, deadpan stare. He emphasizes further by sliding his gaze from Akaashi’s face to his exposed torso and back up.

Akaashi entertains the notion of taking Bokuto’s signals for what they seem to be but thinks better of it.

_As much as I’d like to hurry this along, I’m not about to risk reading this situation wrong. I’m not about to make straight bait out of Bokuto just because I jumped to conclusions._

Honestly, been there, done that. To be fair, he didn’t find out the guy was straight ‘til _after_ their explicit activities. That’s not the point.

He doesn’t want a repeat of last time so he fixes Bokuto with a pointed stare.

Bokuto huffs what looks like a dramatic sigh, the bubbles rippling the surface, and lifts his face from the water to speak. “For the record, I’m bi. But if it pleases you, _my queen_ , then _yes_ , I like wand-wielding individuals.”

Ignoring the snarky tone and title given to him, Akaashi studies Bokuto’s sarcastic face and finds the man, though petulant, to be completely honest. All he can think with this new information is… _Wonderful._

At this point, the lawyer is just smug grins and cracking resolve.

_Professionalism be damned._ This _is a game I want to play._

Akaashi’s all languid movements when he slides to his knees on the deck, arms moving to either side of him as his fingers curl over the pool’s edge to brace his weight shifting forward. He’s well aware that the closer he inches towards Bokuto, the more his robe drapes forward and reveals his chest. He’s closing the distance as much as his limbs allow; all the while his expression is one of flirtatious teasing — dark, hooded eyes and a hint of a coy grin.

Bokuto is justifiably wary of his boss’s sudden change in demeanor and he floats back, wading further into the pool, even though his eyes never leave blue ones for a second. He looks like he’s a clashing mix between confused, scared, and turned on.

Bokuto’s gay radar is going off but so is his fight-or-flight response and he has no idea what the fuck is going on.

Akaashi is undeterred by Bokuto’s marginally distressed reaction and holds eye contact. Thinking back on the events of the day, he couldn’t have imagined they would end up where they are now. Not that he’s complaining or anything.

With the situation they’ve both found themselves under, Akaashi can’t help but fit the puzzle pieces together.

With the way Bokuto’s currently reacting to his advances, he forms an explanation for why the other man fell in the pool in the first place. Even further, he realizes why Bokuto had blushed so heavily at his appearance just a few minutes ago.

_He was checking me out_. And from the looks of it, he _did_ like what he saw. Akaashi bites back a cunning grin in lieu of… something else.

His voice is practically a purr when he says, “Bokuto-san.” Making sure he still has the other’s attention, “Were you eyeing me up earlier?”

The reaction is instantaneous. Bokuto’s foot slips at the bottom of the pool and he goes down a second time; a flash of a startled face is all Akaashi sees before he’s staring at a scene of flailing limbs and white, frothy water. Instead of panicking like earlier, he silently laughs to himself and waits in satisfied patience for the other man to surface again, prey to whatever Akaashi has in store for him.

Sure enough those gold eyes peer at him from where they are just above the water, the lower half of his face submerged; there’s an accusing glint in them.

The only thing he does to answer the glare across the water is lean his weight onto his right arm and stretch his long legs out from under him to rest atop the deck. Akaashi’s perfectly aware of how enticing he looks right now; it goes unsaid, what with the way Bokuto’s eyes are roving over him.

The lounging man has a deceitful air of aloofness about him but he follows gold as it slides over him to pause on the dips and curves of his body, red fabric bunched together or smoothed out in all the right places.

As expected, Bokuto is visibly affected by the image in front of him. Despite the minute darkening of his irises, the man’s face grows so red with heat that the lawyer is surprised the pool hasn’t turned into a hot tub. Nevertheless, the two sit in a moment of silence buzzing with electric tension.

Akaashi knows he has the upper hand and smirks down at the submerged man. “Is that why you fell in the pool earlier?”

Bokuto scowls, though there’s no real bite to it. “I thought we went over this already.”

“Mm, technically we didn’t. If I recall correctly, you stopped after you said my thighs were nice.” The lawyer says coolly.

The taller man immediately responds with an exasperated look. “Seriously?!”

“Hn… yes.” Akaashi feigns a pondering expression. _It’s just so entertaining to ruffle his feathers_.

“Do you always want things so explicit?” Bokuto questions tiredly.

In the next moment, Akaashi’s lips stretch wide into a wicked smile, lids lowered in a predatory gaze. There’s a gleam in his eyes when he whispers his next words like a secret.

“Oh, I like things _very explicit_.”

To say the least, Bokuto looks both terrified and aroused.

_I’m going to have so much fun with him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang, it's LowScribe!
> 
> Sincere thanks for checking out the first chapter of my first fic! I put a pretty substantial amount of effort into it so I hope you all enjoyed it.
> 
> Please leave comments below if you so wish. Whether it be about thoughts on the story, feedback you have, or you just want to talk, anything's fine. I'm down to get to know my readers.
> 
> Special thanks to Beta-Sama. I would die for you, bitch. But you know this.  
> Special thanks to Sweetbread. Light of my life. Your support is a treasure.  
> \---  
> On a more specific note for this work.
> 
> Brace yourselves for the upcoming chapters. This fic probably won't be living up to its E rating until chapter 3 so have patience, gang. Expect a bit more Kenma and Kuroo in the future. My little gremlin babies are up for some more screen time.
> 
> This fic was meant to be a balanced mix of cute, funny, and sexy. A lot of my friends and I's sense of humor is projected into this fic, and though I know it isn't always for everyone, I hope I could put a smile on your face or make you laugh. If I didn't, well, worth a shot.
> 
> I'm going to end the notes here because it do be getting lengthy as fuck. Thanks again.  
> Stay tuned, gang!


	2. Mercy Is A Concept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Bokuto ever going to catch a break?
> 
> The answer is no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang, it's LowScribe!
> 
> I just want to quickly thank my readers for the kudos and comments for the first chapter. I really appreciate it and I'm glad that I made some of you smile.
> 
> Y'all really doing the most.

The three weeks following their first meeting had gone relatively well in Akaashi's opinion. Both men had quickly become accustomed to seeing each other on a regular basis and now, it seems they’ve implicitly agreed on the routine that has seemingly appeared from nowhere.

Bokuto comes over. He works. Akaashi torments him. Bokuto ascends the astral plane. Then he leaves.

Simple, really.

Their unorthodox cycle took place every Saturday and Sunday, and the lawyer doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it.

This… mating game of theirs, to put it as crudely and succinctly as possibly, has been quite eventful so far, to say the least. Akaashi can’t deny how much personal enjoyment he’s been feeling, though he hasn’t shown it.

He can’t really say the same for the older man (Bokuto’s attempts at using his one-year seniority as leverage has proven fruitless, much to the man’s dismay).

With the torture he’s been subjecting Bokuto to, he almost feels a little pity for him. The other man is no doubt drowning in sexual frustration, much to Akaashi’s gratification. He has to admit he’s been quite relentless; mercy is a concept he seldom entertains.

He can’t quite say it’s been completely smooth sailing though. As much as he knows he’s winning the war, Akaashi begrudgingly admits Bokuto’s got a few battles under his belt.

This morning, for example.

He scowls at the memory.

-

_Today marks the pool boy’s fourth Sunday on the job and Akaashi thinks it’s the perfect time to practice some yoga. Being aware that his technique’s slipping a bit, paired with the agreeable weather this morning, he figures why not?_

**_Why not give Bokuto a show?_ **

_Turning from side-to-side in front of the body-length mirror, Akaashi applauds himself for his choice of wardrobe; not a hair out of place (not that he ever actually tries to tame his curls) and each piece of clothing selected for perfection. The olive crop tank top he has on fits snug around his torso and leaves little to the imagination._

_Though the cherry-on-top would have to be the black leggings that wrap tight around the planes of his thighs and calves, all their curves and lines secured and accounted for. The dark-haired man has to suppress a shiver at the thought of large, tanned hands tearing these off of him, hard-earned callouses roughly scraping at his smooth skin in the process._

**_All in due time, Keiji._ **

_He can’t afford getting aroused now so to distract himself, Akaashi goes to fish out his mat from the back of the cupboard in the hallway and goes out onto his balcony to spread it out._

_As he stands up from his task of smoothing down the edges of the mat — curled from being rolled up and neglected — a warm breeze passes by to ruffle through his hair and raise tingling goosebumps on his exposed arms. Taking a moment to himself, his eyelids slide closed and he takes a breath in through his open lips; the balmy taste of summer resting on his tongue. His exhale is one of peace and a small content grin breaks his otherwise quiet expression._

_It’s rare he gets moments like these to himself._

_Just then, the sound of the doorbell reverberating off the walls breaks his reverie and announces the arrival of his much-anticipated guest._

_For a second, Akaashi gives no indication of moving and breathes in through his nose._

_Upon exhale, the shift in his demeanor is almost palpable. His eyes open to reveal glinting sapphire and his lips stretch a bit wider._

_From an outsider’s observation, one would say Akaashi looks like the dictionary definition of conniving._

**_Oh, Bokuto. There’s a storm coming._ **

_In the next moment, his features slide back into their usual neutrality. He’s practically sauntering down the stairs, the soles of his feet gliding over the steps of cool, polished wood to get to the front entrance. Akaashi’s all relaxed posture and nonchalance as he pulls the door open to greet his awaited guest._

_The dark-haired man is pleased, to say the least, when he sees Bokuto’s jaw immediately drop a little at the sight of him. He can feel gold eyes not-so-subtly appraising him and doesn’t mind letting the man gawk a little._

_“Good morning, Bokuto-san.”_

_The taller man catches himself quickly enough and snaps his mouth shut, fumbling for a response. Those hands that Akaashi’s had one too many wet dreams about go to nervously run through black and white hair._

_The motion causes Akaashi to zero in on the man’s flexed bicep. If the man’s shirt had sleeves (and thank god they didn’t), Akaashi’s quite confident they would’ve ripped given any more stress. He hopes he’s not too obvious in his staring because one good look into his eyes and anyone could probably guess as to what he’s thinking._

**_God, I want those arms holding me up against something._ **

**_And that tattoo? Immaculate._ **

_Yes, Bokuto had a fucking tattoo. It was a finely-etched thing, with no small amount of detail. A single, extended wing onto the bulging skin of his inner bicep. It was beautiful._

_And a major turn on, no doubt. He’ll have to ask about it at a more convenient time._

_“Mornin’, Akaashi. H-how are you?” Bokuto asks, a shy blush high on his cheeks and his usual bright smile plastered on his face. The innocent expression served high contrast to his own shameless thoughts._

_Akaashi stifles a small snicker and settles for an amused grin. “You saw me yesterday. Don’t you think the formalities are a bit unnecessary, Bokuto-san?”_

_The man in question turns a little pinker and seems to search for a response._

_“O-oh yeah, I guess you’re right.” Bokuto seems to mull over this with a pensive face for a moment before declaring, “But I keep telling you to drop the -san and you never do. Don’t you think you’re the one being a little too formal, Aghaashi~?”_

_The lawyer finds the display of resistance like a puppy barking back and restrains himself from cooing. Instead, he opts for an unimpressed look and plays along._

_“Bokuto-san, how many times have I told you to say my name right? If you can’t even do that much, then why should I bother with what you ask?”_

_Akaashi huffs when he merely receives a childish “Semantics!” in return but the older man doesn’t seem to hear it and carries on._

_“Come on, Akaashiii. Can’t I just ask how one of my favorite people is doing?”_

_The dark-haired man definitely didn’t see that last part coming if the feeling of his face heating up is any indication. He turns his face in a delayed attempt to hide it but he knows for sure that Bokuto doesn’t miss it._

_The black and white-haired man’s expression turns on a dime and Akaashi fidgets with the impending feeling of losing the advantage._

_“Oh, Akaashi~” the man croons with a teasing lilt, much to the lawyer’s chagrin. “You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”_

_Despite his steadily deepening blush, the lawyer gives Bokuto an annoyed look before sighing and turning to the side._

_“Absolutely not. Just come in, Bokuto-san.”_

_The black and white-haired man lets out a cheeky snort but says nothing more. Crossing the threshold into the genkan, he braces an arm against the wall to balance himself while toeing off his shoes._

_Akaashi waits patiently beside Bokuto, though he doesn’t know why. It’s been four weeks. He shouldn’t have to lead the other man to the backyard and yet, he still does. If the pool boy noticed, he hasn’t commented on it. The lawyer internally shrugs._

**_As a wise person once said, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it._ **

_In his peripheral, Bokuto seems to be having a bit of trouble getting his left shoe off, body swaying back and forth slightly at the stuttered movements of his heel struggling to come free. Just as he’s about to open his mouth and ask the taller man if he’s alright, Bokuto suddenly lurches forward, his balance lost._

_Akaashi shoots out a hand to grab the man’s already extended arm to keep him upright but this only seems to redirect the momentum and direction in which he’s falling. The dark-haired man belatedly realizes that Bokuto is coming closer and closer, about to fall directly on_ him _._

_Before he can, Bokuto whips his free, flailing arm around to stabilize on the wall, effectively steadying himself and halting all motion from advancing further._

_A loud_ smack! _echoes in Akaashi’s ear as the other man’s large palm comes in contact with the space next to him._

_Both men seem to be frozen in place at the sudden turn of events. But it seems breaths are being held for very different reasons._

_“Holy fuck! I almost ate shit just now!” the pool boy exclaims with shock. The settling realization that he has_ not _in fact eaten said shit leads him to hang his head between his shoulders and let out a heavy breath of relief. His broad frame visibly relaxes with the threat of a mild concussion well out of the way._

_However, relief seems to be a one-way street._

_“...”_

_Akaashi doesn’t utter a sound but on the inside, he’s losing his. Goddamn._ Mind _._

_The air in his lungs shows no indication of leaving and the trapped oxygen is burning with every second of being held in. If anything, that’s the least of his worries right now. Passing out would at least free him from this hell mentally._

**_Shit shit shit shit shi-_ **

_He needs Bokuto to come to his senses_ now _before Akaashi.exe shuts the fuck down. This is not a drill._

_As prayed (practically pleaded) for, the older man lifts his head back up, only to meet wide blue eyes and a beet red face._

_“Hey Akaashi, you- uh- you okay?” The question is asked in genuine concern and the obliviousness only makes the situation worse. The lawyer can’t even find it in himself to react at the puppy-like head tilt accompanying the inquiry._

**_No, I’m_ ** **not** **_fucking okay!_ **

_“Uhm- ahem. Bokuto-san. Please look where we are.”_

_The man gives Akaashi a strange look at the request but nods his head slowly nonetheless. His eyes roam back and forth, up and down, and it seems the discovery hits him quickly enough. Not as quickly as Akaashi would’ve liked, but enough._

_Pink steadily starts to stain tan cheeks, thick eyebrows lifting higher in tandem, as gold eyes take in the compromising position they’ve both found themselves in._

_How close they really are._

_The placement of his arms._

_The coolness of Akaashi’s hand where it's clenched over his bicep._

_(Akaashi thinks he sees a flash of smugness on Bokuto’s face when the man seems to notice that his fingers aren’t even close to wrapping all the way around._

_Oh fuck him, honestly. … That’s a work in progress.)_

_When those intense eyes flick back to meet his own, it seems they’re on the same page now. And he doesn’t know if that’s making this situation better or worse._

_Akaashi has unintentionally (shocker) found himself trapped between Bokuto’s thick arms and the wall (Jesus Christ, this sleeveless shirt was even worse for his_ _~~dick~~ _ _heart up close); his back is flush with the wood behind him. There is nowhere to flee._

_He is, quite honestly, stuck between a rock and a hard place._

**_When I said I wanted something rock-hard, this is_ ** **not** **_what I fucking meant._ **

_“Oi, Akaashi.” A smooth cadence shocks the dark-haired man into regaining focus._

_The face looking back at him isn’t the Bokuto he’s used to. This one was… different. Different than all the other times the man got the upper hand._

_Akaashi’s sweating._

_There’s something predatory in those eyes and the way they’re peering into him has a chill running up his spine. Full, lazy lips spread into a sly grin. The lawyer has to avert his gaze before he does something he regrets. Namely, kissing the man._

_“Aw, ‘Kaashi~” Bokuto’s face comes a little closer, their noses nearly touching. That damned voice dips a little lower to say, “Don’t look like you’re enjoying this too much, yeah? You’re making this hard for me.”_

_Akaashi doesn’t think he’s ever been more red in his life._

-

In the end, the lawyer had adequately scolded Bokuto with a withering glare that sent the man running out the back door with his tail between his legs (so much for the bravado…). He himself had remained behind to catch his breath and calm his rapidly beating heart.

Just thinking about the fiasco now tempts Akaashi to bury his face into his pillows and yell in embarrassment. And the whole situation had been over three hours ago! Ugh, he’s sure that there’s a god and he’s laughing his fucking ass off at Akaashi’s predicament.

He hates this.

Ever since Bokuto’s been around, it seems the lawyer has a tendency to fall into the dramatic facet of his personality. An abnormal phenomenon, given his usual disposition.

_God, I feel like a schoolgirl in a shoujo manga. I even got a wall pin scene and everything!_

Akaashi touches the heel of his palm to his forehead, cool against his heated skin, and pauses for a moment. All frustration and pouting aside, he can’t help but acknowledge the small part of him that’s enjoying this.

Sure, he isn’t as in control as he’d like but strangely enough, that was the fun part. The lawyer liked that the other man could bite back. Even at the start, Akaashi saw that there was something else lurking underneath all the blushes and muscles that Bokuto had to give; a rumbling beast simmering beneath the skin that everyone else sees.

This whole back-and-forth thing between them was going to keep building up the tension until one of them snaps.

And he couldn’t wait.

With that end goal in mind, Akaashi regains composure quickly. He’s going to have to be at full power for his plan to work.

It seems his insidious thoughts are written all over his face because at that moment, Kenma walks by the open door of his bedroom, only to glance at his housemate as he passes.

“Jesus, Keiji. Chill.” He almost forgot the blonde man knew of his intentions; and judging by the scoff, he’s none too impressed about them either. “You’re just doing some fucking yoga. I’m concerned about your priorities.”

Kenma’s voice grows distant but the disdain in his tone is as clear as if he was saying it directly into Akaashi’s ears. Regardless, he doesn’t have it in him to feel embarrassment. He’s got bigger fish to fry than be offset by a little judgement.

Besides, he knows for a fact that his housemate is quite the fox himself.

_I don’t know if I should feel good or bad for Kuroo._

“When Bokuto and I fuck, your bed is going to be the first victim!” he calls after the shorter man. That threat may or may not have some truth behind it, depending on how wrathful he’s feeling.

“Fuck you!~” is the retort coming from down the hallway.

“I’m working on it!~” Akaashi gets no reply. He can picture Kenma’s face twisted into a grimace right about now. He’s probably also scheming a backup revenge plot should the need for it arise. If that’s the case, it isn’t surprising.

Last Saturday, the blonde had gotten (ordered) Bokuto to move all the furniture in the estate “a little to the left” after Akaashi had forced him to eat his vegetables the night before. The dark-haired man had stubbed his toes endlessly and didn’t find out about the ploy until the next day when he had to explain to Bokuto why he was limping everywhere; to which the other man tearfully spilled everything and swore he had no idea of Kenma’s intentions.

Akaashi has yet to think of a way to get back at the little demon.

But that was a problem for later.

Right now, he’s going to get Bokuto to submit. And he’ll have some revenge while he’s at it.

There’s something immensely pleasurable about the stretch and strain in his muscles. It’s been so long that he’s almost forgotten how enjoyable this is. Bending this way and that, pushing his body to the limit, and feeling hard-earned sweat gloss over his heated skin.

He lets out a small huff in trying a particularly difficult position, a little ashamed at the effort needed after being out of practice for so long. He didn’t know it’d gotten this bad. He’s only on some intermediate poses at the moment.

_My yoga instructor would scold me if she knew._

He’ll have to send her a care basket later as an apology and promise to come back to the studio soon. But for right now, Akaashi can almost taste the victory on his tongue. He knows for certain that Bokuto’s nearing his breaking point, if the occasional strangled noises and tripping over feet sounds in the distance are any indication.

Speaking of the black and white-haired man, Akaashi spots him on the far end of the backyard, fumbling with the hose for god-knows-what reason. From where he is up on the balcony, he can’t see what’s wrong. Perhaps he’s encountered an issue with the equipment?

Oh well, no matter. Bokuto will have a very different problem with his own… _equipment_ very soon.

Now kneeling on the mat, the dark-haired man knows he’s being watched with rapt attention; all he needs to do is keep going.

_Watch closely, won’t you? Blink and you’ll miss, baby._

Akaashi inhales and upon letting out the breath, the mood in the air shifts like the flip of a switch. He feels like a dancer on a stage, the spotlight never leaving him. He moves every which way, body contorting into shapes from experience and passion; he moves to the beat of his own heart, feeling it thrum in its birdcage.

When Akaashi bends back to rest his weight on his forearms, he makes sure to meet the gold that he knows is already looking; even upside down, there’s no way the lawyer could mistake the sheer force behind Bokuto’s gaze. The look in his own eyes dares the other to look away. From this angle he’s aware that Bokuto can see all the lean lines of his stomach and the clean curve of his ass, tensed from the compact position. He smirks before ascending again, only to arch up on his hands and feet in a bridge.

A sculpted leg lifts straight up and his chin leans far back, revealing the smooth column of his throat. Akaashi’s aware of how suggestive he must look but make no mistake, this is not a display of submission. Rather, it is a taunt at what the suitor desires but does not yet have. It’s a tempting lure for a fish that knows not its own fate.

In this moment, Akaashi wishes for his audience-of-one to be enraptured by him, to hunger after him with such an insatiable appetite that they willingly fall into his grasp.

Lowering himself to the ground, he makes a show of rolling onto his stomach and planting his forearms under his chest; like this he is a picture of ecstasy — an illustration of bracing oneself against a lover lost in the throes of lust. One leg after another, Akaashi’s lower body rises up in the air, the tips of his feet are brushes that paint elegant crescents as they arc to suspend over his head.

His body is an exhibit of alluring strength; it only calls for another that can meet or surpass it to come together in a merge of power.

With a soft exhale, he descends once again onto his hands and knees and goes to slide forward, his back arching in a pretty curve as his arms straighten to push his torso back. He’s almost there, he can feel it.

There’s a tight cord of anticipation hanging in the air, ready to snap at any moment.

Akaashi lands the finishing blow as he shifts his weight back, his lax arms lying flat in front of him. His entire torso is practically laying on the mat, dense foam firm against his chest. His leggings are growing tight in their stretch around his hips and thighs to accommodate his pose and he fights hard to abstain from wiggling his ass from where it’s at high in the air.

Just for good measure, Akaashi peers over his shoulder so that sultry blue eyes lock with piercing gold ones; it’s what one would call a closing bow before the curtains come shut.

Even with half his face covered by his upper arm, he can see Bokuto's face clearly even from up here. With the diligent heat being conveyed in their riveted gazes, it feels like it’s only the two of them in a small room, cramped with their knees knocking together and muggy from their hot breaths. It’s as if the meters of distance between them are no more than a hair’s breadth of space. The seconds they spend staring pass by as if they’ve been there for hours, just waiting for the other to do something.

Akaashi is still here, splayed in all his glory across the balcony, and Bokuto is still there, squatted down with shoulders rigid in self-restraint. He feels heady anticipation and sensitivity prickling on the surface of his skin, so much so that he almost bucks his hips down when he feels the featherlight touch of a breeze along his exposed lower back.

For the sole reason of riling the taller man up just a bit more, he indulges in what he’s been wanting to do this whole time. The movement begins small, likely unnoticeable to ground-level viewers, but soon enough, the motions become sinfully apparent.

Akaashi’s ass sways side to side, black fabric creating delicious friction on the swells of his behind. He throws in a minute smirk just to seal the package.

Their battle of resolve has been building up exponentially and when it suddenly breaks, it breaks in a way no one could have foreseen.

Honestly, Akaashi doesn’t know whether to be mad about it or not. All he knows is that one moment, the two were locked in heated stares and ready to pounce, and the next, Bokuto gets literally blown away by an explosive torrent of water coming from the side of the guest house.

“Bokuto-san?!” His voice is merely a frantic, muted plea over the undoubtedly roaring volume of spraying water.

In a flash, he springs up on his feet and sprints downstairs. Kenma is leaning over the upper staircase railing by the time Akaashi’s foot slaps onto the first floor.

“Keiji?! What the hell is going??” It’s rare to see his housemate in such a flustered state but the sight of him running through the house like a maniac (something Akaashi condemns on a regular day) probably warrants some form of appall.

“Can’t talk! Explain later!” Akaashi really could care less about the coherency of his words at the moment. “Bokuto- water- ‘sploded!”

“Huh- _what?!-_ ”

He doesn’t hear anything after that as he basically trips out of the backdoor, bounds over the patio, and runs down the wooden walkway towards a bulky, flailing body. Akaashi feels a sense of deja vu wash over him.

_Why does this keep fucking happening to me?_

“Bokuto, are you okay?!” He shouts to make himself heard over the roar of water and skids to a stop.

In front of Akaashi is a sight that would’ve been amusing in theory but seeing it here and now just confounds him if anything. Bokuto is holding his two hands out in front of him, futilely attempting to stave off the watery assault, and looking around wildly for god-knows-what. At the sound of the lawyer’s voice, the black and white head shoots up.

“Oh, A-Akaashi! Uh- hey!” For some reason, gold eyes widen and stare back at him with a mixture of what looks like minor shock and delighted glee.

“Whoa, wait! You dropped the honorifics!” Akaashi is gifted with a megawatt smile but he can’t really find it in himself to count his blessings at the moment.

“Is that _really_ what’s important right now?” He doesn’t even try to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

“Uhm, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say… no?”

“That was a _rhetorical question_ \- ugh, you know what? This isn’t important either.”

Akaashi turns on his heels and stomps back in the direction he came. He hears a squawk of distress.

“W-wait! Akaashi don’t leave me here!”

Quite the contrary, actually. Akaashi decides to save his sorry ass by going inside the guesthouse to find the valve in charge of shutting off the water supply to the spigot. Immediately upon switching it off, the noise outside quiets dramatically and the dark-haired man huffs in relief.

Dusting off his hands and making his way back out to Bokuto, he’s met with a broad and _very_ naked back. Great, now he wasn’t just sleeveless, he’s goddamn shirtless. This is _definitely_ deja vu.

Akaashi clears his throat to make his presence known. It’s amusing when such a formidable body jumps a little in surprise and whips around to face him.

 _God, those abs are to die for._ He somehow manages to contain himself and his thoughts with a blank face.

“A-Akaashi! Uh- thank you for, uh, helping me out back there.” Bokuto’s wearing a sheepish smile and rubs at his neck in that nervous habit of his.

Akaashi waves him off with a flick of his wrist. “No need, Bokuto-san. Mind telling me what happened though?”

The taller man looks like a deer caught in headlights and very subtly shakes his head no.

“Well you’re going to.” The demand is curt but monotone.

Bokuto hangs his head and heaves out a defeated sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. Akaashi gulps when the other man isn’t looking because _holy fuck_. The way every muscle in those god-given arms jumps out at the flexed position causes the dark-haired man’s brain to short-circuit. If Bokuto’s doing this on purpose, Akaashi doesn’t know. What he _does_ know is that looking away is the best option before his heart fails him. So, that’s exactly what he does.

Except… he’s a few moments too late.

Collecting his thoughts and lifting his eyes to meet Bokuto’s, he’s met with a smug expression.

The man is smirking when he opens his mouth to speak. “Aw, ‘Kaashi~”

Akaashi dreads whatever’s about to come out of that stupidly-tempting mouth.

“Hm, do you like what you s-”

The lawyer cuts him off. “Nope, no. Absolutely not. We are not doing this again.”

“Bokuto-san, I am at my limit. If we keep this going, I’m taking you right here and now. And despite my relatively _long_ list of kinks, exhibitionism is _not_ one of them.”

Bokuto’s face is gradually morphing into shock, flustered doesn’t even begin to describe it, as Akaashi’s tirade goes on. But he’s not quite done yet.

“Now, I know we’re both on the brink of tearing each other’s clothes off so how about we go inside, get you cleaned up, and then we can get to the good part, hm?”

A sickeningly sweet smile is tacked on for good measure as he waits for a reply. It brings him satisfaction to watch the other man fidget in place, pinned down by Akaashi’s expectant gaze.

Where all that confidence from this morning went, he doesn’t know.

It seems Bokuto somewhat finds his bearings enough to nod. The lawyer clasps his hands together in finality.

“Great. We’ll deal with this mess later. Follow me.” And without waiting for a response, the dark-haired man does a one-eighty and strolls back down the walkway towards the main house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, it really took me a month to update... Sorry if I kept any of y'all waiting. At first it was work that kept me from writing but then when I finally got back to it, the writer's block shafted me for a good week or so.
> 
> Also, y'all would not believe the unholy amount of research I did about pool maintenance, the field of law, and how a v-ball player becomes a Japanese pro athlete for this chapter. It obviously ended up being absolutely useless because I didn't fucking use any of it... Kill me.  
> Beta and Sweets made a meme out of me and my pool maintenance research mania. As they should, honestly.
> 
> Enough about me though.  
> I hope y'all liked this chapter! If you did or you didn't, feel free to leave feedback for me in the comments.  
> -  
> Special thanks to Beta-Sama. You've watched me go through a rollercoaster of unidentifiable emotions while trying to plan out this story. For that, you are a saint.  
> Special thanks to Sweetbread. You keep my spirit afloat when I'm literally drowning myself in doubts about my writing.
> 
> With all that said, I hope to see everyone at next chapter!  
> Stay tuned, gang :>
> 
> p.s. More Kenma and Kuroo is coming. I promise.


	3. Feelings & Co.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fight fire with fire and watch the whole world burn.

It’s safe to say that the sexy ambience from before is nearing its complete and total destruction. He’s not sure how much more waiting his dick can take and it’s no thanks to a certain someone.

Akaashi thought his companion was a grown-ass adult but apparently he’s been mistaken. Ever since both men had made their way into the house and upstairs, said man-child has been in his bathroom for the past fifteen minutes, making his loud whining known to the world, and refusing to step foot beyond the glass doors of his stand up shower.

“But _Agasheee_. I don’t wanna showerrr!”

From somewhere in the house, Kenma’s clearly agitated voice can be heard.

“Keiji, can you _please_ shut him the fuck up!”

The lawyer heaves out a breath (he thinks he spots a little bit of his soul coming with it) and abandons his quest of finding suitable clothing for the larger man in favor of strutting back over to the bathroom. Gold eyes flash apprehensively as sapphire gets closer and closer until they stop right in front of him. In one fell swoop, Akaashi hooks a firm hand behind a thick, tan neck and pulls him down to eye-level.

“Bokuto-san, listen to me. I need you to wash up because, for one, I don’t want you getting sick. And two,” he fixes the black and white-haired man with a pointed look and changes his tone to a velvety cadence.

“I want you clean before we get dirty. Understood?”

Enunciating the intent in his words, he slides his hand up to Bokuto’s cheek and brushes his thumb over a chiseled cheekbone with a featherlight touch. With that, Akaashi leaves the shell-shocked man behind and waltzes out and back over to his dresser to resume his attempt to find Bokuto-sized sweatpants.

Right then, his ears catch the light thump of sodden clothes hitting the floor and the rapid pitter-patter of running water. It seems Akaashi is very persuasive.

Rummaging in his drawers, his fingertips finally touch familiar fabric and he pulls it out with a small, triumphant _aha!_ It’s the huge pair of sweatpants that got delivered in the wrong size and he opted to keep them because he couldn’t be bothered to return it.

(He has the right to be lazy sometimes, okay?)

Looking through the abandoned corners of his walk-in closet, Akaashi’s suddenly glad he kept his oversized t-shirts from college, though they’d probably fit a bit snug on Bokuto regardless, as he plucks one off the hanger. Looking at the oddly cohesive mix of a worn, blue shirt and new, grey sweats in his hands, Akaashi mentally pats himself on the back for managing this much and places the set of clothes at the foot of his bed.

On the way out, he stops by the door of the bathroom to call, “Bokuto-san, there’s clothes for you on the bed. Once you’re done, come downstairs.”

Akaashi doesn’t wait for an answer as he turns to leave but a cheerful ‘okay!’ still echoes after him, making the man smile little — a hand hovers over his lips to keep the small happiness for himself. Bokuto, despite his intimidating physique and powerful aura, really is just a large, lovable puppy. Even with the limited times they’ve seen each other, the dark-haired man has never been more quick to smile or laugh.

_Damn, I’m so whipped._

And honestly, he’s not even mad about it. Sure, his little crush wasn’t planned (not to mention it developed at a jarringly fast pace) but he figures there are worse people to pine after. He shrugs to himself.

_I’ll cross that bridge when I get there._

On the last step of the stairs, Akaashi pushes thoughts of his potential romantic endeavors aside and heads straight for the kitchen. It’s around lunchtime and he figures that if he’s hungry, Bokuto could probably use some food too. The sex can wait.

He rifles through the fridge for a bit before deciding to prepare a quick, easy meal of miso soup and salmon onigiri (he hasn’t been able to shake off his riceball addiction since high school). While he works, he hums some obscure song he heard on the radio.

Akaashi is stirring the pot of soup when he hears the telltale sound of Bokuto’s heavy footfalls coming in his direction. He’s about to turn and greet the man when he suddenly feels thick, solid arms easing around his waist and a warm face nuzzling into his neck, black and white strands tickle his chin. The fragrance of his own shampoo washes over him at the close contact but after a couple initial sniffs, he can also detect another scent under it all that’s just so undeniably Bokuto. A feathery sigh escapes him at the fuzzy feeling of contentment filling his chest.

Akaashi had just planned to let the other man be, despite his usual discomfort with casual touching, and revel in the cozy atmosphere but an abrupt long sigh makes him a little worried.

“Bokuto-san. Are you alright?” His tone is a mix of curiosity and concern. After all, he can’t see the man’s face so he doesn’t know if anything’s actually wrong.

The noncommittal noise he gets in return only alarms him further so he puts down the ladle, turns the heat on low, and turns around in the arms holding him.

They’re nearly chest-to-chest but Akaashi can’t bring himself to dwell on that when an unsure and hopelessly insecure expression is in front of him. He has no idea what caused the change between the happy Bokuto in the shower earlier to the mildly distraught Bokuto now but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to help.

Placing a hand on the man’s face, he gently guides Bokuto to look at him. That serves as a challenge in itself since gold eyes keep flickering to look everywhere but at him.

“Bokuto-san,” he repeats lightly. “I don’t know why you’re upset but please let me know what I can do, hm?”

The taller man hesitates for a moment but gives him a stiff nod anyways. Akaashi waits patiently for an answer, not wanting to push him.

“U-uhm, ‘m not upset. It’s just, I was thinking…” Bokuto’s arms retract and fall to his sides with clenched fists. Akaashi frowns a bit at the cold replacing their absence but doesn’t comment; there’s no need to concern the man with such trivial, selfish things when he already looks so unsettled.

“Yes?”

There’s an audible gulp.

“O-okay, I’m just going to put this out there. Promise you won’t hate me after?” Akaashi wants to kiss the man’s worries away. This is the second time he’s heard that question from those lips but this time around, it’s laced with such a genuine fear that makes his own chest constrict.

“Bokuto-san, it may be a bit early to say this but I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

The amount of feeling and truth he pours into his words is no small feat but he can’t help it. There’s just something about Bokuto, in all the four weeks he’s gotten to know him, that makes Akaashi want to give him the world; he wants to wrangle the stars and give it to this man, the brightest one. 

Bokuto sucks in a huge breath, seemingly to brace himself, and lets it out shakily.

“Okay, ‘Kaashi.. I trust you.” The shorter man is rewarded with a tentative grin that crinkles a little under gold irises. Affectionate fingers slowly reach back to clasp on his waist and the familiar warmth radiating from them returns; paired with the face of open vulnerability, it all makes Akaashi wonder how much more his heart can take.

“I like you, Akaashi.”

His body goes rigid at the unexpected confession and Bokuto’s hands twitch in uncertainty, about to release again, but his own hands come up to anchor the man in place by his elbows, encouraging him to continue. It looks like he has to cross the bridge sooner than he thought.

“Like a lot. I like you… a lot. A-And I know I’ve only known you for a month but I can’t help it.”

The man pouts cutely at the thought but he doesn’t look to be legitimately bothered by it.

“Honestly, who wouldn’t like you, y’know? You’re so pretty, and super smart, and kind! But that’s not the point.” Bokuto shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts.

“The point is… I don’t want to have sex with you. No- that’s not right. I do! I do want to.. with you.. But I also wanna go on dates with you a-and make you laugh and _ack_ \- this is so _embarrassing_!” The strong hands tighten on his skin, fidgeting as if they’re itching to rip out hair in frustration. At this point, the taller man looks almost exhausted. It’s as if getting out the words required more effort than Bokuto had to give; his strong back appears brittle as the weight of his confession and the fear of rejection sits heavily on him.

Little does Akaashi know that his steadfast grip on the man’s arms is the only thing urging him forward.

“I know I’ve been a part of everything leading up to, well, now… b-but while I was in the shower, I thought about it. About.. what would happen after. Would that time together mean nothing more than sex to you? Would we just keep going like normal after? Just the possibility of that really hurt. So I’m sorry for saying all this so late but I can’t have sex with you if that’s all it’s going to be between us. Is.. Is that o-okay?”

Bokuto sounds like he feels incredibly inadequate and that just doesn’t sit right with Akaashi.

“Bokuto-san. Look at me.” The voice that carries between them is stern but tender. Those frantic pupils finally seem to focus on him and Akaashi locks eyes with him to ensure he stays there.

“I appreciate you being honest with me. And I want to make it clear that I would never expect or pressure you to sleep with me. You should be able to say no when you aren’t comfortable, especially with me. Okay?”

He gets a feeble ‘okay’ and watches taut shoulders sag a little in relief. Akaashi deems that an acceptable answer before continuing. He cups Bokuto’s face between his hands, squishing his cheeks a little to try and lift the atmosphere; the man makes a small noise of protest but he pays no mind. Putting on the warmest smile he’s probably ever worn in his twenty-seven years of life, Akaashi breathes out an exasperatedly affectionate huff.

“Believe me when I say that I feel the same way. I too want the things you want.” He repeats the same sentiment twice in order to drill it into the bigger man’s skull how much he means it. Bokuto’s eyes widen, as does his mouth, but Akaashi shushes him by squeezing a tad harder, the man’s lips forming a fish-like pout.

“Of course, if we had just fucked and went our separate ways, I would’ve been fine with that too. If we’re going to flip this situation on its head, you shouldn’t feel obligated to pursue a relationship you don’t want either. However, the fact that our feelings are mutual and that we’re willing to try for something more, isn’t that so much better than ‘fine’?”

Bokuto just looks at him for a few moments, a long silence stretches between them, and Akaashi is afraid he’s said something wrong. But right as he opens his mouth to apologize, he is gifted with the brightest, most blindingly happy grin he’s seen to date. It stuns him and he would’ve gladly lost his sight if this is the last thing he ever sees.

Bokuto nods furiously, lips still stretched wide over teeth, as he eagerly agrees, “Definitely better! Even better than better!”

The rush Akaashi gets at the sight can’t even be rivaled by a straight injection of pure serotonin. That doesn’t even make sense in his head but this feeling transcends the laws of science and human knowledge. He swears it.

In the next second, Bokuto takes advantage of Akaashi’s lowered guard to pull him even closer than before, those blessedly corded arms locking him in place. Their faces are centimeters apart and his own cheeks are pinkening at the proximity. On the other hand, the once-nervous man shows no sign of being perturbed. If anything, he looks playful and just plain _fond_.

It’s just a whisper, like a secret only they share, when Bokuto asks, “Akaashi, will you be my boyfriend?”

Just to play along with the ridiculousness of how they must look, he leans in a little more, lips nearly touching, to whisper back, “That depends on how well you fuck me.”

Bokuto jerks back as if slapped and proceeds to scrutinize Akaashi’s face, an outrageously baffled expression on his own.

Upon realizing that it was a joke, the large man laughs loud enough to make the lawyer wince. Bokuto smirks down at him and casually asks, “So I take it you wanna bottom?”

_Well that took an unexpected turn. But then again, what hasn’t today?_

Akaashi’s face goes aflame and all he can really do is shoot Bokuto an expression of incredulity. Despite the teasing delivery, the man looks like he wants a legitimate answer.

He hears himself stammer embarrassingly when he gets out, “I-I thought that was pretty o-obvious??”

Bokuto actually has the audacity to look innocently sheepish when he grins and states, “Well, I mean, I’m usually on top but I wanted to make sure. Y’know.. just in case.”

“Just in case…” Akaashi repeats unsurely. “I wanted to top?”

The conversation is taking a weird and sudden turn but the topic’s relevant enough that he just goes with it.

“Well, yeah? I don’t know! I was confused because you told me you wanted me ‘clean before we get dirty’,” Bokuto’s blushing like a schoolboy as he does the air quotes. “So I did! I even stretched myself and everything! It felt kinda funky...”

The taller man makes a funny face as if reminiscing the exact moment and feeling of having his fingers up his own ( _splendidly luscious_ ) ass. Akaashi lets out a startled laugh but is otherwise speechless for a good few moments. He already figured that Bokuto harbored an incredibly caring personality for the most part but this level of consideration is a novel experience for him, despite the decent amount of lovers he’s had.

_Could he really be any more perfect?_

“Bottoming sounds kinda scary but I think if it’s with you, I’ll be okay.”

The answer to his previous question is _Yes. Yes, he can._

Akaashi clears his throat to try and collect himself. His heart feels so full that he thinks it might just break out of his chest and spill all over the floor. He’s only mildly disgusted at how love-stricken he’s allowed himself to become for this beautiful, _beautiful_ man.

_I have to make him suffer as I am._

And he tries. He really does.

“I prefer receiving but..” He places a deceivingly dainty hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, fingertips brushing the sliver of skin at the junction of his neck, and leans up to whisper into his ear, “Don’t worry, _Koutaro_. When we get to it, you’ll think _I’m_ the one on top of _you_.”

He tried. But he fails.

Black and white strands tickle his cheek as the man pulls back slowly to fix Akaashi with a dangerously challenging grin, more like a baring of teeth if anything.

“Oya?~ Hn, we’ll see about that, _Keiji_.”

Akaashi hits his limit and buries his furiously reddened face into the man’s muscular chest; the sound of his given name spoken in that dark, sultry voice makes him want to sin in a way that’ll lock him out of heaven.

It seems he accidentally said that out loud because Bokuto barks out a laugh and only tightens his grip on the shorter man’s waist even more. And just like that, they stay wrapped up in each other, no words needed between them.

Their little moment is broken as a drawling voice sounds from his right.

“If you guys are done being gay, can we please eat?”

It seems the question was asked merely out of courtesy as the little blonde gremlin is already helping himself to the plate of onigiri on the counter. Akaashi’s pleasant mood holds him back from pointing out that the food was meant for him and Bokuto (as well as the fact that he too is dating a man) and leaves his housemate to do as he pleases.

Akaashi doesn’t put effort into dressing nice and pulls on a loose shirt and joggers (they’re coming off at some point anyways). He had opted to freshen up, the sweat from yoga gradually making him twitch in sticky discomfort, and left Bokuto and Kenma to eat while he showered.

In retrospect, leaving the two to their own devices in the same room seemed like a disaster in the making. He won’t be surprised if he goes downstairs to be greeted with a crime scene, courtesy of his housemate and his notoriously short patience, or Bokuto helicopter-propelling Kenma over his head like a human bo staff. He balks a bit at the visuals. Many options were on the table — most ending with his friend murdering his lover — and he isn’t in any hurry to choose one.

Shockingly, the two men are where he left them, perched on the bar stools behind the kitchen island, gingerly sipping at soup and munching on riceballs. Akaashi takes the seat between them as a safety precaution and helps himself to the food. Out of impulse, he leans over to peck a more-than-happy Bokuto on the cheek before digging in.

He is unsuccessful in trying not to roll his eyes when he hears a gagging sound on his left.

The lawyer takes an inane amount of pride in seeing Bokuto’s eyes go comically wide while witnessing the mind-boggling amount of food he can put down in record time. If eating onigiri was an Olympic sport, he would take home gold.

Kenma’s mouth is half-full, much to Akaashi’s evident disgust, when he offhandedly announces, “Oh, by the way. Kuroo’s coming.”

On impact, a resounding, and honestly overdramatic, gasp is heard from Bokuto at the news.

“Kuroo? My bestest friend in the whole world? The moon to my sun? The saving flame to my dying torch? You mean he’s coming?!” If Akaashi didn’t know better, he’d think _he_ was the side hoe with the way Bokuto is talking.

It seems Kenma’s thinking something along the same lines when he scowls. “If you want to date him instead, by all means, take him off my hands.”

The taller man looks more offended than necessary at the proposition, a hand on his chest and wearing an exaggeratedly appalled expression.

" _Kenma_. How could you _say that_ when my boyfriend is sitting right here.”

The lawyer doesn’t even have time to blush at the term of endearment when the doorbell suddenly rings.

_Speak of the devil._

Akaashi only manages to slide off his seat when Bokuto is nothing but a black and white blur sprinting over to throw the front door open. It swings hard enough to hit the wall but thankfully doesn’t make any visible dent. That man had too much strength for his own good.

(Kenma’s fuming “you break it, you buy it!” is barely heard over the absolute clusterfuck of a dialogue that the two men at the door are having.)

“Kuroo!” is the booming greeting.

At that moment, a tall man with wild, black hair leisurely enters Akaashi’s line of sight. The seemingly perpetual shit-eating grin on his face lives up to all the tales he’s heard from his housemate.

The two large men engage in some form of masculine meeting ritual and from what he can see, there’s the linking of arms, bone-shattering thumps on the back, and an inappropriate amount of finger guns.

“Bro, I missed you so much.”

“Bro?”

“Yeah?”

“Not as much as I missed you.”

Bokuto looks moved to tears and he lets out a soft, “Bro.”

They passionately embrace and the display is singlehandedly the most heterosexual yet, oddly homosexual thing Akaashi’s ever seen. He decides immediately that he hates it. Though he’s not nearly as vocal as Kenma about it.

“You idiots literally live together. Cut that shit out. I’m trying to fucking eat. Do you mind?” Every single word is barbed but Kuroo especially looks undeterred as he walks further into the house. If anything, he seems thrilled by the harsh greeting.

_I can only imagine what those two get up to in the bedroom._

“Aw, babe~ Don’t be like that~ You know you love m-”

“Finish that sentence and I’m strapping you to the balcony railing by your ankles.” Deciding not to take his chances with his boyfriend’s threat, the black-haired man snaps his jaws shut. To his credit, he’s still donning a cheshire grin.

“Oh! Oh! ‘Kaashi- no, Keiji! Can I call you ‘babe’? Can I? Can I? Can I?” Bokuto harbors way more enthusiasm than the simple question warrants but Akaashi supposes that’s the man’s charm. He's never had any particular disposition in regards to pet names but even so, how could he say no to that face? The man has hands clasped in front of him in a pleading manner and is looking at him with a starry expectant gaze. Akaashi tries his hardest not to combust with affection.

Before he can get a word in though, that lazy tone cuts through again. Kuroo is smirking when he says, " _Oh_? You finally decided to put a ring on it, Bo? Hm~” He feels cat-like eyes give him a once-over before some unidentifiable expression slips onto his face.

“Kuroo Tetsurou. It’s nice to finally meet you, Akaashi-san~ I’ve heard _many_ good things about you.” The grin accompanying the greeting feels like a set trap.

The lawyer senses he’s being toyed with somehow but he’s not one to take these things lying down. He levels the black-haired man with a blank look. “Akaashi Keiji. Pleasure. Though it seems I can’t say the same, Kuroo-san.”

Kenma lets out a graceless snort at the jab and continues eating his onigiri unbothered. “Wrecked.”

The sauve image Kuroo’s had up until now crumbles right before Akaashi’s very eyes as he watches the tall man fall to his knees, faux sobbing while he leans heavily on his blonde counterpart’s legs.

“K-Kenma! How could you be so cruel to your own boyfriend?”

The lawyer has to stifle a chuckle when he observes his housemate’s features morph into a scathing expression.

All the crying man gets in return is a single, cold-cutting, “Perish.”

Kuroo lets out an overexaggerated choke and falls boneless to the floor. In a flash, Bokuto rushes over to ‘save’ his precious friend.

“Kuroo? Bro! Kuroo, don’t leave me! What am I supposed to do without you?!”

“Bo.. You gotta go on without me.. because at the end of the day… we’re all just beyblades letting it rip,” Long fingers stroke Bokuto’s cheek (Akaashi tries to ignore the small feeling of ire that pangs in his chest at the gesture) before laying to rest on a motionless chest.

“Kuroo, no! _Nooooo!_ ” Bokuto lets out a devastated wail as he clutches the limp body in his arms.

_How have we fallen so far from God's light._

Akaashi feels his synapses ceasing to fire at the sheer amount of absolute stupidity present in the room right now. He makes eye contact with Kenma across the table and they share a look that screams ‘of all the people we chose, it had to be these two’.

And that’s how Akaashi found himself seated at the table with three other men — two of which have made it abundantly clear that they share a single, communal brain cell — listening to a string of commentary that has effectively killed any and all opportunities to bring back the ~mood~. It’s not like he’s actively trying but he doubts it’d make a difference anyways.

_My dick is too soft for this shit._

Given he’s had no way to deal with the fuckery that is Bokuto and Kuroo interacting until now, no one can fault Akaashi for breaking out the wine at four in the afternoon to cope (with the devolution of his intellectual capacity or the forsaken state of his limp dick, he doesn’t know for sure). Kenma doesn’t seem to be faring any better. Before he can set down the bottle of _Recioto_ on the patio table, his housemate throws decorum out the window and swipes it out of his hands; Akaashi watches with dissociated awe as the blonde pops the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottle — the glass he brought for him sits neglected on the table.

The lawyer only chuckles lightly as he eases into the lush cushions of the outdoor sofa, pouring his own glass once he’s settled.

Unfortunately, the two had been forced to relocate to the backyard as a precaution due to the inevitable and unpredictable antics of their counterparts.

Out of the blue, Bokuto had announced that he and Kuroo had some “very serious talk” to get to and that it was of utmost importance and required absolute privacy. Giving a stern nod to the two men on the couch, he then proceeded to hook an arm across Kuroo’s chest and bodily dragged him inside the house (protests of ‘but I wanna cuddle with Kenmaaa’ fell on deaf ears).

He and Kenma share a look.

_Did we just get kicked out of our own damn house?_

Apparently.

Now here they are, lazily reclined on the patio, sipping at fine wine and munching on complementary chocolates while their lovers talk about god-knows-what inside.

_This is my life now._

In truth, it could be worse. The approaching hours of evening are cool and the distant chirps of cicadas are soothing on the ears. It’s peaceful like this.

…

Until it isn’t.

The silence is abruptly broken by the back door slamming open, viciously startling the two, and within a millisecond, Kuroo rounds the corner at breakneck speed and sprints down the expanse of turf. Hot on his tail is Bokuto, charging for him like an enraged rhino. The two zip in erratic patterns across the yard while shouting nonsensical words and insults at each other. Akaashi doesn’t even bother trying to translate.

_Welcome to Discovery channel. Here we see two morons engaging in what seems to be a battle of intellectual capability. Neither are winning._

It’s like watching a demented game of tag where Kuroo skirts around Bokuto’s swiping hands by whatever means necessary. Apparently, the lengths to which the cat-eyed man is willing to go does not exclude landing a hefty kick on Bokuto’s stomach to buy himself time before turning tail and sprinting full speed towards the couch.

In a moment of self-preservation, Akaashi warily picks up the _Recioto_ , his own glass already in his left hand, and inches further and further away from Kenma. He has a feeling the blonde is about to get caught up in whatever mess the children have created.

The closer Kuroo gets, the more Kenma curls into himself.

“Kuroo, I swear to god. Knock it off- _oof_!” The smaller man gets cut off as his boyfriend vaults the patio table with an audible _whoosh!_ and lands on the couch next to him, a heavy arm catching around his middle and winding him a little.

Kuroo whips his head around to face Bokuto who’s still hot on his heels.

“Bo? Bo! C’mon man, back off!” his friend calls out fruitlessly.

Before his own boyfriend can get any chances to wring Kuroo’s neck, Akaashi sticks out a leg in hopes of stopping the black and white-haired man. It works. Bokuto comes to a complete halt before any harm can come to the lawyer’s limb. That doesn’t stop his mouth from running though.

Bokuto stomps his foot resolutely and yells, “Not until you take it back!” He doesn’t sound remotely winded by the hit he just took to the gut.

Kuroo blanches a little before firing back, " _Hell no!_ I stand by what I said! No offense, Akaashi.”

At this, the lawyer is merely reeling with confusion.

_What the hell’s this got to do with me?_

“Literally what the fuck are you two on about?” Kenma asks with no small amount of irritation.

Without hesitation, Bokuto answers him with a mad pout. “He said he doesn’t like Akaashi!”

“Hey, no, I so did not! I _said_ he isn’t my type!” Kuroo tries to defend himself.

The new information causes Akaashi’s train of thought to come to a screeching halt. He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, brows scrunched together. This was hands down the most trifling matter they’ve bickered over for the past three hours. And that was saying _a lot_.

Kenma, surprisingly, looks down at Kuroo, now sprawled across his lap, with a questioning expression.

“How can Keiji not be your type?”

Akaashi shoots his friend an incredulous look that screams _Seriously?!_

“What? I’m demi. Not _blind_ ,” the blonde retorts nonchalantly.

He sighs an insufferable sigh and decides he’s had enough of this.

“Bokuto-san, you’re being ridiculous. Kuroo can prefer whoever he wants,” he chides.

The older man isn’t having any of it and turns his nose up with a _hmph!_

“No way! Akaashi is the best!” Bokuto crosses his arms over his chest in childish finality. “The ass wants what it wants. … Is that how the saying goes?”

At the uncertain follow-up, Kuroo pipes up to say, “Pretty sure, yeah.”

Bokuto nods his head, accepting the affirmation, appearing to forget completely about his beef with his best friend.

“Thanks. Love you, bro.”

“Love you too, bro.”

Kenma groans in loathing and throws his head back. “Oh my god, not this shit again.” But the two pay him no mind.

“Bro, stop. Don’t make it gay.”

“It’s been gay for the past twenty-eight years.” Kuroo raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Bokuto thinks it over for a second before conceding with a resigned shake of his head.

“Yeah, who am I kidding.” The black and white-haired man lets out a forlorn sigh.

From over Kuroo’s head, Akaashi spots Kenma looking at him pleadingly. It’s a cry for help that he can’t ignore. 

_I guess I have to solve this the hard way._

And it won’t hurt if he has some fun while he does it.

“As much as I’m flattered, don’t you think you’re being a bit biased?”

Rising from the couch to stand in front of his boyfriend, Akaashi puts his hands on his hips and leans into Bokuto’s space. He fixes the taller man with a meaningful gaze and says silky smooth, “Besides, I’d much rather be just _your_ type, Bo-ku-to- _san_ ~”

He stresses each syllable, walking two fingers up a pectoral, and upturns the honorific with an airy note to reel the man into his orbit.

He wasn’t expecting a big reaction but regardless, his words take effect almost immediately when those deliciously sturdy hands grab his hips and pull him flush; Akaashi places his palms on the man’s firm chest to steady himself. A strong heartbeat thrums under his touch like a drum.

The friction from where their pelvises connect causes electricity to crackle between them like white noise on full blast. The tense arousal that’s been simmering under their skin this whole time lies bare in the riveted gaze they’re sharing. The setting sun turns Bokuto’s warning eyes into molten gold and the intense sight ignites a raging fire deep in his gut; he won’t look away, even at the threat of melting.

The mood he thought was gone is back, and it’s returned tenfold.

Even with the clothes separating them, Akaashi feels as if Bokuto’s fingers are burning a brand into his flesh, skin blistering with the heat of smoldering arousal. He fists his hands in the man’s shirtfront to ground himself, uncaring of the inevitable wrinkles following his white-knuckled grip. The action itself drags the bigger man closer and if he’s not imagining things, he might’ve heard a growl sound low in Bokuto’s throat because of it.

Akaashi feels his cock jump against the man’s thigh at the noise and he smirks at the startled flinch he gets in return. He doesn’t get to dwell on it for long as Bokuto recovers quickly, his pupils dilating at the realization of where they’re going with this.

Now, it’s a game of push-and-pull, cat-and-mouse. There really is no loser in the end, but the sweet taste of winning the fight for control is too enticing a prize to yield for.

To rile his partner further, he gives an experimental roll of his hips to gauge a reaction. The man doesn’t disappoint and the lawyer is graced with the sound of a deep animalistic moan getting caught between Bokuto’s clenched teeth. At the provocation, Akaashi feels the both of them hardening and there’s a sense of urgency in him that just wants Bokuto filling him up. Right _now_.

“Careful, _Keiji_. We wouldn’t want to do anything.. _indecent_ outside, would we?” Akaashi shivers at the husky tenor of the man’s voice; he hears the unhinged lust threaded into every word and nearly abandons all his efforts.

No, he’s _not_ giving in. No matter how much his body wants to, he. Will. Not.

“What’s the matter, Koutaro?~ Can’t control yourself?” he questions with a deceptively coy lilt. His innocence facade falls away only to be replaced with a tauntingly wry expression. A muscle in Bokuto’s jaw jumps out at the jab.

“That’s alright.. How about you let go and have your way with me.” His voice is practically a hiss at the end.

At that, a switch flips somewhere inside the man. Bokuto’s irises flash with a hungry gleam, the gaze is dangerous and predatory, and his full lips stretch in a devilish manner; a thrill runs up his spine and Akaashi grins wickedly in response. Here he is, dancing with the beast he so badly wanted to see in a game of unshaken will and burning want.

This isn’t a predator and its prey, no.

This was the rush that came from hunting _each other_. One wrong move and either of them would be devoured. Akaashi didn’t plan on becoming the blood staining his lover’s teeth.

With the fingers already gripped tight in Bokuto’s hair, he yanks his head back, the man letting out a faint grunt at the action. Leaning in, he licks a small stripe alongside the column of his throat and blows on the spot, relishing in the goosebumps that follow in his wake. Bokuto’s gasp is his reward.

Resting his lips lightly against the steep ridge of collarbones, he teasingly asks, “What do you say, Bokuto-san? I’m all yours.”

The man in question wrenches free from Akaashi’s grasp only to give the lawyer a rakish smirk as he backs him up against the back of the couch. Now it’s his turn to throw his head back and gasp at the added pressure where their hips join; the hard edge pushing at his ass gives Bokuto leverage to press against him further.

Akaashi has to fight the whimper that threatens to escape his throat and futilely pushes against an immovable chest with trembling hands. His efforts don’t go unnoticed and Bokuto bends down to brush his lips along his ear.

Perhaps it's the smoldering temperature in the space they’ve created that has him disoriented but his lover’s next words send a jolt through him. He feels every stroke of that damned mouth as it whispers next to him.

“As much as I’d like to do that, ‘Kaashi, I do recall you saying that exhibitionism isn’t your thing.” At the feeling of a hot, slick tongue tracing the shell of his ear, Akaashi darts a hand up to grip at Bokuto’s sleeve. Chuckling something tantalizing, the man continues, “More importantly- and you better remember this, Keiji. Your sounds are for me, and me _alone_.”

_Damn it. Damn it. Fuck him!_

Akaashi’s panting slightly at the words and glares vehemently at the man responsible for his current state. Bokuto smugly grins at him and that only further fuels his ire at losing.

Before he can curse at him, they’re interrupted.

“ _Ahem_ , _Ooo_ -kay. As much as that was hot as fuck, I think this is our cue to leave.”

Two heads whip over only to see Kuroo in the process of hauling a twitchy Kenma under one arm and snagging the half-full bottle of wine with the other. The small blonde fidgets in his hold as the tall man ambles his way over to the back door.

“Put me down, Kuroo. I’m not done watching.”

The black-haired man only sneers down at the bundle under his arms. “If you wanna watch two people fucking so bad, we’ll go watch some porn.”

Kenma scoffs. “Bold of you to assume this isn’t better in every way. It’s like Shrek 4D but less sex jokes and more actual sex.”

“ _4D-_ ” Kuroo audibly chokes on his spit. “Were you going to fucking _touch them_? Babe, if you’re trying to make me jealous, it’s working.”

“Well, if you don’t touch me right this goddamn second, I’m coming right back out here for a threesome.”

It seems Bokuto and Akaashi have no say in that possibility. They’re merely spectators in this vulgar, impromptu sit-com.

“Aw, babe~ You could’ve just told me you’re horny. Let’s go inside and I’ll take care of you~”

“Absolutely not. We’re fucking at your place. I don’t wanna hear or see all the different ways Bo can bend Keiji.” Bokuto actually dares to blush at the comment.

_After what we just did?!_

This man’s duality is giving him whiplash.

Right before Kuroo’s about to shut the door behind them, he sticks his head back out to call, “Have fun, kids! By the way, Bo! Practice got moved to four tomorrow so make sure you hit it ‘til it breaks, y’hear?”

And with the lecherous words of Oikawa ringing in the air, Kuroo is gone with a final slam of the door (Kenma’s impatient “hurry the fuck up!” can be heard in the background).

The two remaining men are stock-still for a moment. And like some comedic film, they ever so slowly turn their heads to look at each other.

At first, no words are exchanged between the pair. But gradually, Bokuto’s features upturn with mirth and Akaashi’s own lips are quirking at the edges slightly.

Then, like a dam bursting open, they’re clutching at each other with belly-cramping laughter. It just goes on like that, the two of them giggling and guffawing over the sheer ridiculousness of, well.. Everything.

Today alone, Akaashi’s done shit he’s never bothered doing before just to make one man trip over his feet. Something tells him Bokuto is no different. Each of them appeared to have innate qualities that have naturally led the both of them to do things they wouldn’t have done with anyone else.

At the revelation, Akaashi finds something promising and all he can do is smile. It’s a genuine smile, free of lust and teasing, with his eyes closing shut and crinkling at the corners. It makes him feel warm and light.

When his smile fades to a grin, his eyes open to meet the sight of Bokuto looking at him with nothing short of pure adoration. It makes his throat get a little tight with emotion.

_He’s only known me a month. How can he look at me like that?_

It doesn’t seem to bother the older man.

“You’re beautiful, Keiji.” Akaashi can feel the man’s heart in the words and his own threatens to overflow.

He wraps his arms around those broad shoulders and leans up to murmur, “Hn, you’re not so bad yourself.”

At that moment, they gravitate to each other.

Lips come together in a sweet but passionate kiss. They move like they’ve known each other for years and it’s so _them_. Akaashi nips and sucks, only to pull away slightly, living up to be the tease they both know he is. Bokuto caresses and delves deep; he touches like he’s securing the most precious treasure. They convey what they’ve come to feel for the other through the wet, hot slide of their mouths.

But what started gentle becomes hard and fiery, the push and pull of their lips brings back that scalding heat that blazes under their skin. They’re practically exchanging air through open mouths with their refusal to completely separate; there’s the occasional clack of teeth and bumping of noses that testifies to the grace they care little to incorporate.

Akaashi’s panting heavily against Bokuto but no lack of oxygen could deter him from continuing to pursue the man’s touch. No matter how many times he needs to resurface, he’ll always dive back down. He’s tried him and now he’s addicted.

He feels a nudging hand on the back of his thigh and takes the cue to hike his legs around the man’s waist, muscled arms come up to support under his ass. Akaashi sighs breathily into Bokuto’s mouth when their clothed dicks rub together in this new position. In a spur of the moment, he grinds his hips down to up the ante and in return, a thundering groan rumbles in Bokuto’s chest.

The sound is so arousing that he’ll do whatever it takes to hear it again.

Akaashi pulls back from Bokuto, nearly distracted by the string of saliva connecting him to the other man’s spit-slick, red-swollen lips.

Cupping a chiseled face between his palms, he looks meaningfully into lust-blown gold to say, “Let’s take this upstairs, yeah?”

It’s without hesitation when Bokuto replies, “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot damn. I got chapter three out fast. I suppose it's compensation for making y'all wait a month for chapter two. That, and this chapter is ~2k longer than the usual count.  
> Though despite getting this done faster than normal, I also put a lot of consideration and thought into this one. Of all the chapters that will be in this mini multi-fic, chapter three resounds with me the most. It seems Beta and my other test readers feel the same way.
> 
> I know this fic is honestly glorified porn lol but I really wanted to stress not only the romantic aspect of BokuAka's relationship, but especially the foundation of open and honest communication they build on. I think that's one of the most important things anybody can have when pursuing any sort of relationship. I wanted the two to have a healthy start before getting hot and heavy.  
> And let's be honest, I cannot fathom the prospect of BokuAka being fuckbuddies or one night stands or any of that type of shit. My brain refuses to compute anything but their canonical marriage to each other. I don't take critique.
> 
> I hope everyone found the chapter balanced in terms of content though. There was a lot going on in this one. More tension. Minor conflict resolution. Brokuto and Kubro antics. Cutesy shit. More tension 2.0. Etc.  
> Like why do y'all put up with me???
> 
> For real though, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> Brace yourselves for the absolute FILTH that is chapter four :')  
> \---  
> Special thanks to Beta-Sama. I only kinda feel bad for blue-balling you with this chapter. Sorry mate :P  
> Special thanks to Sweets. You're reactions to this chapter were so on-brand and so fucking cute and hilarious.
> 
> Anyways. Stay tuned, gang!  
> \- LowScribe
> 
> p.s. this rich text option is really tilting me. if there's any punctuation errors, lmk. I think I fixed them but I might've missed some.


	4. Bon Appétit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi asked and received, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hello there, gang! I hope y'all have been taking care of yourselves. I have so much to say but I'll save it for the end notes.  
> For now, please enjoy the final chapter as my Christmas gift from me to you!

Akaashi’s back hits the wall with a hard _thud_.

He throws his head back with a long, decadent moan ripping from his throat at the feeling of a muscled thigh sneaking between his legs to rub at his throbbing erection. Bokuto’s greedy mouth latches onto his exposed throat, just under his jaw, and sucks _hard_ , making him gasp. He grinds down on the man’s thigh by reflex, only to whimper at the negligible relief he gets.

He’s slowly but surely losing his grip on his sanity but he’s in no hurry to get it back.

Getting to Akaashi’s bedroom was supposed to be a short trip, but instead it’s been a precarious journey full of stumbling over feet and bumping into furniture. Bokuto’s made it a point to take all opportunities to press him up against any suitable surface and steal the breath from his lungs, vastly derailing their plans to get to their destination.

Case in point: they’re halfway up the stairs when his lover pins him to a cold wall with a warm chest, a tight grip on both his hips. The black and white-haired man busies himself with mouthing at Akaashi’s throat, slowly descending down.

Bokuto’s lips suck a red bloom onto his collarbone. When he speaks, it’s a mere murmur against the abused skin. “Mm, Keiji.. You taste so _good_. I want to fucking _eat you_.”

Akaashi emits a breathy chuckle. “If we actually make it to my bed, I’ll let you do just that, Koutarou. Now if you’d stop being so impatient- _Ah!_ ”

He chokes on the end of his sentence as Bokuto drives his hips into Akaashi’s; falling into a rhythm of lazy rolls. Akaashi can’t find the effort to be irritated at the interruption. The sensation courses through him like waves at high tide — steady but deceptively harsh forces of nature that pull him under and make him gasp for air.

He musters enough resolve to counter the movement with hard grinds of his own but small pants puff from his lips anyways. Bokuto’s head falls onto his shoulder with a baritone groan.

“ _God, baby_. The noises you make-” The man lets out an appreciative growl at the mere mention of them; the gravelly sound sends shivers up his spine. His cock twitches in interest and he reels with slight surprise. On a regular day, being called that particular term of endearment would make his stomach roil with inexplicable discomfort.

But somehow, the reverence and care with which his lover says it has him making an exception, butterflies erupting in his stomach. The fluttering feeling, paired with the unattended state of his cock, makes him whine, pitiful and small even to his own ears.

_Fuck, I feel like a bitch in heat._

“Oya? Look who’s the impatient one now~”

Akaashi wants to smack him for the mocking quip but before he can retaliate, sturdy hands slip behind his thighs and heft him up. His heart skips a beat as Bokuto carries him the rest of the way.

The display of strength only stokes the fire in his belly more; the flames grow hotter and hotter as the seconds pass, threatening to render him to ash. If Bokuto’s the igniting match, he’ll happily be burnt alive.

He conveys the sentiment by repaying the marks he’s received in return. Branching from the base of a strong neck and across broad shoulders, he sucks deep red and purple bruises into the skin there; carefully putting them in places clothing can cover. They may be hidden but the mere thought of their presence will ensure that Bokuto doesn’t forget who left them.

Call him possessive or whatever but this man was _his_ now.

Around him, the gravity shifts as his lover bends forward to place him on the bed with rough hands and a gentle touch. The edge of the mattress dips with their shared weight and Bokuto takes advantage of the slight angle to press his pelvis down in deliberate circles. Akaashi keens just a notch louder and scrabbles at his strong back with feeble fingers. The room is filled with the sounds of hushed desperation and ragged breaths. His legs, still wrapped around his lover’s waist, clench tighter, bringing Bokuto impossibly closer. 

He wants to get to the part where the presence of this man is all he feels — inside, above, and around him. Omnipresent. All-encompassing.

He wants their skin to be the only barrier that separates them. He wants it so bad — so hard and rough — that his body screams for reprieve but his mouth begs for _more_.

Bokuto doesn’t even bother maneuvering them both to the center of the bed. The man nips at the slant of his jaw while a free hand smooths down his front, dipping under his shirt to tease the lean lines of his abdomen, before coming to rest at the waistband of his sweats.

Akaashi sucks in a sharp breath. The thumb caressing the sliver of skin above his pants leaves goosebumps in its wake and he’s struggling to fathom that a mere touch can render him into a shivering, gasping mess. He may not understand but he doesn’t really care to try either.

Teeth release abused skin; a pink tongue sweeps over swollen lips as if to savor his taste.

“Keiji, baby, please. Tell me where your lube is.” The request is heaved out amidst labored breaths dripping with unhinged arousal.

Bokuto’s transparent desperation is the claws of a beast that rips into what little hold of composure he has left, leaving him open and bare, compliant with its every impassioned whim.

There’s no pain. Nothing of the sort. Only a lust for pleasure fills his nose and clouds his thoughts. He lets himself be shredded to ribbons so that he may be reborn as a monster just as ravenous. Just as insatiable.

He locks a hand behind Bokuto’s neck and drags him down into a savage kiss. What the clash of their mouths lacks in grace, they make up for with intensity.

In between reluctant gasps for air, Akaashi doesn’t bother with an articulate response when he grinds out, “Bottom drawer. Condoms too,” before pulling them together again.

Bokuto indulges him, tugging on his lower lip and sucking on his tongue, before leaning back with eyes full of mirth. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me go get the stuff?”

“You’ll just have to figure it out, Koutarou~”

His boyfriend lets out an unflattering snort. “Sorry to break it to you, babe, but I’m no magician.” The man reaches behind to free himself of the hold Akaashi’s legs have on his waist. 

Akaashi contemplates resisting.

_I could pull him back. Grind into him until he blows his load. I could give him a little show and suck him dry…_

The proposition is tempting, he won’t lie. But alas, he decides to save the blowjob for another time and relinquishes his grip.

It is only when Bokuto is crouched down and rifling around in the drawer, hollow sounds echoing from the contents being pushed around, that Akaashi zeroes in on the muscular back facing him and comes to a dreadful realization. 

_He’s not fucking naked._

He glares at the shirt clinging tight to his lover’s frame like it has personally offended him. 

And possibly even worse, _I’m_ _not fucking naked._

Bokuto is oblivious to his turmoil upon returning to the bedside, tossing the bottle next to him with a muted thump; the crinkle of a condom packet follows soon after. The black and white-haired man practically pounces on him again but Akaashi puts a hand on his chest to stop him — the gesture not unlike fending off a large, overexcited dog.

He furrows his brows, “First of all, are you _really_ going to fuck me right here when half my ass is hanging off the edge of this bed? And second, arguably more important, _how_ in all that is good and holy do we still have clothes on, Kou?”

Bokuto might as well have a buffering icon floating above his head, what with his comedic expression of utter confusion.

“Is _that_ what’s bothering you right now, Keiji?” 

Akaashi resents that bewildered tone.

“Is that _not_ what’s bothering _you?_ Last time I checked, it’s rather- what’s the word? _Difficult_ to have sex with clothes on.”

His eyes roam up and down the man’s body, extending a sliver of sympathy to Bokuto’s length straining against its fabric confines. “Seriously. The fact that you have yet to take your pants off is an offense of the highest degree. Please remove them. If not for my physical and mental well-being, then at least do it for your poor cock.”

Bokuto barks out a booming laugh, the mirthful tremors wracking his body seep into Akaashi’s own. Somewhere in his chest grows warm and he struggles to keep a smile from creeping onto his face. 

Loud and merry sounds fade into chuckles that settle into an amused smirk. The expression holds mischief.

“Well, since you asked so nicely, my queen, your wish is my command.”

Akaashi is so caught off guard by the words that he lets out a muffled squeak when Bokuto tackles him in a heated kiss.

In a flurry of movements, his lover somehow strips them both. Their lips never break apart save for the times they have to slip their shirts overhead.

(He tries not to laugh when Bokuto gets it stuck on his head.)

The first contact of their arousals sliding together has the both of them moaning into each other’s mouths. A bolt of pleasure strikes him and he wraps his legs back around Bokuto’s waist to pull them closer — the increased pressure makes him gasp.

Bokuto rocks his hips into him with intent, chasing the feeling. Akaashi is being shaken at his foundations and he can only dig crescents into tanned biceps as he desperately hangs on. Kittenish whimpers of _more_ cascade from his mouth with urgency.

As his lover nips a path down his chest, he gives a light tug on dual-toned hair. The man hums in acknowledgement.

Akaashi struggles to string his thoughts together. “K-Kou.. _haah_... We can’t just do this right h-here- _ah!_ We still need to- _mm.._ move up a little…!” He breaks off into a yelp when he’s bitten on the clavicle.

He barely catches the absentminded mumble of, “You said you’d let me eat you if we made it to the bed.”

Bokuto leans back to lick his lips, slow and deliberate.

“A promise is a promise, Keiji. We’re just fine right here.” Wet lips quirk up into a rakish smirk. “Besides, it doesn’t matter where we are. I’m gonna make you come.”

Akaashi bites out a curse when Bokuto chooses that moment to thrust into the firm hold, precum aiding the slide. Seeing his cock engulfed in his lover’s large hands does funny things to his stomach.

But while the sensation is too much, it’s also not enough.

He tries his luck.

“You talk big but don’t- _ngh!_ \- get ahead of yourself.. You’ll be lucky to- _oh!_.. make me cum- _haah~_ even once…” Akaashi barely gets the taunt out between hot breaths and choked moans.

They both know he’s full of shit.

And unfortunately, Bokuto is all too aware of this.

He throws his head back to keen when his lover starts to pump them in tandem with the slow thrusts. Twisting and pulling. They’ve barely begun but a thumb swiveling around the head of his dick has him nearly bursting at the seams.

Black and white strands tickle the side of his cheeks as the man leans further down. A husky voice rumbles low in his ear. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Keiji~ I’ll make you feel so good. I’m gonna make you cum _over_ and _over_ until you just can’t anymore.”

The man latches onto his throat to add another deep hickey to the growing collection. He gives it a loving lick before letting go. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk for _days_.”

His mouth goes dry and he shivers with anticipation.

Despite breathing heavily at those filthy promises, Akaashi still looks down his nose to feign nonchalance, “Not weeks?”

Bokuto’s formidable frame rumbles with amusement. “Your mouth never stops running, huh?”

He goes to retort but the words die on his tongue as the calloused pad of a finger runs over his sensitive hole. 

Akaashi bites his lip in an attempt to stave off the high-pitched whine bubbling in his throat. His body betrays him and his hips buck to press closer.

“Damn, I didn’t think you were this sensitive~”

“Shut up. Just _get in me_ already.”

Bokuto clicks his tongue with a smarmy wink and a lame _aye aye captain_ that makes him roll his eyes.

Akaashi’s hole clenches around nothing at the sound of a cap popping open. The sight of translucent slick being warmed between his lover’s fingers makes somewhere inside him dance with want and sends tingles all the way down to his toes. A calming hand rubs his calf with a gentleness that seems out of place in the midst of such a charged atmosphere.

Bokuto circles him and nudges past the ring of muscle. With how relaxed the lawyer is, it isn’t long before the other man finds himself knuckles-deep, easing the digit back and forth, teasing sweet whines from his stubborn lips.

One finger turns into two. And two becomes three. Bokuto’s thick fingers — thicker than his own — curl decadent strokes against his walls.

Bokuto takes his time with him. Learning and remembering and ultimately unraveling him.

His boyfriend makes the usual methodical task of stretching to be just as intimate as if his cock was fully inside him and pushing to his deepest point. Not once does he feel it is being done solely out of necessity. Not once does he pick up on a facade of formality.

Dare he say… he’s enjoying it. And very much so.

Bokuto is quietly ruthless upon finding that one spot that makes Akaashi curl his toes and throw his head back with a high-pitched whimper. He prods at it with insistence, massages it with intent.

“Ha- _angh!_ ”

He’s panting and bucking into his lover’s touch, but the heavy hand now gripping his waist keeps him trapped in the onslaught of pleasure.

“Do you feel good, baby?”

“S-so good… Aa~ah, it feels so.. ngh- _good._.”

Moans and whines stream from his open lips. Akaashi barely registers Bokuto letting out resounding groans to harmonize with his own sounds.

It’s only when the coil in his gut winds tight does he place a hand atop Bokuto’s wrist, bringing it to a standstill. Fingers slip out of him with an obscene squelch to wipe on the sheets before resting on his thigh. 

“You okay?”

It takes some effort to bring his panting down enough to respond clearly but he manages. He pecks the man on the nose and leans back to grin at him. 

“I think I’m more than ready, Koutarou,” he says in lieu of an answer. Reaching down between them, he revels in the sharp intake of breath when his hand cups Bokuto’s hardness; the pulsing heat in his palm fuels the fire in his belly. Akaashi smirks with just a sliver of menace. “And by the looks of it, so are you.”

His lover grunts. “You’re goddamn right I’m ready.”

He quivers as Bokuto slips on a condom and downright heaves when the generous length is slicked up with a few pumps. His fingers dig into the sheets as the head rubs at his entrance.

The initial feeling of intrusion induces a sharp exhale. It’s something he has to get used to but it’s not something that he dwells on for long. He relaxes quickly.

It’s been quite some time since his last partner but not long enough that he has completely forgotten a lover’s touch.

The slide in is slow and careful, the man going to great lengths not to jostle him. He mewls with every advancement. Bokuto’s breaths fan across his chest in hot waves and his nipples stiffen in response — sensitive to the warmth.

Seconds feel like eons but tanned hips finally press flush with his ass. His boyfriend is buried to the hilt and their groans mingle together in a sensual sort of victory cry.

With bated breath, they look at each other through hooded gazes misted over in lust. Even in the middle of sex, Bokuto beholds him with starry eyes.

“You okay, Keiji?” Bokuto’s voice is husky and low, huffing the question out between rugged pants. Akaashi can feel him trembling with restraint against the backs of his thighs. Shapely abdominals clench and release in short bursts in a futile effort to be still.

He admires the view and vows to never take it for granted.

“Mm... Remind me to upgrade my dildoes. You’re bigger than them and I need new ones to remind me of you when you’re not here.”

The room is silent save for their labored breathing until his lover squeezes out an amused chuff.

“Noted.”

The small tremors shift Bokuto inside him and Akaashi whimpers. He wiggles a little to get some more friction going.

The man has other plans in mind; grabbing hold of his left leg to toss it over a broad shoulder. A sturdy hand on the inside of his other thigh spreads him open and presses his leg into the bed — rough fingers dig into the flesh there.

The position lets Bokuto press impossibly deeper and he chokes on air.

“F-fuck, Kou… _ngh_ … M- _move!_ ”

Inch by agonizing inch, Bokuto slides in and out of him, scorching blazing trails along his insides. Every nerve in his body feels set alight despite the slow ministrations.

But Akaashi can feel the restriction in his boyfriend’s movements. The black and white-haired man takes caution to keep the scope of his power on a leash. Anxious. Hesitant. It’s as if he’s tied both hands behind his back, reluctant to show his full potential.

With great difficulty, he lifts an arm to reach up and grab hold of Bokuto’s strong jaw. He feels the muscles already clenched underneath his fingertips.

“Bokuto-san, I’m not- _ha-ah fuck.._ made of glass. Don’t you dare- hold back..”

Hips come to a stand-still.

He doesn’t expect the obnoxious gasp. “ _Keijiiii!_ You can’t bring -san into the bedroom! That’s so unsexy…” he whines, dragging out the last word in petulance. His bottom lip juts into a pout and Akaashi nearly crumbles.

_How the fuck is he cute when he’s literally inside me?!_

He shoves his incredulity aside. _This is the_ **_least_ ** _of my problems right now._

“If you want me to say your name, _Bokuto-san_ …” he looks up through his lashes, “you’re going to have to show me how much you want to hear it…”

It’s a tense stare-off but with a vicious flash of teeth, Bokuto more than complies.

And he far exceeds any and all expectations.

Colors burst behind his eyelids in a supernova of shock and awe as Bokuto pulls out to the tip and slams back into him. Powerful hips piston into him and harsh, lewd sounds of skin-on-skin fill the room — a brutal pace is set. 

Ragged moans and groans of unhinged sex that they are helpless to hold back complete the symphony of their coupling. Akaashi attempts to keep his sounds to a minimum but to no avail.

He snags his bottom lip between his teeth, wanting to hold out for as long as possible; wanting to make Bokuto work for it. But his efforts go in vain when a particularly angled thrust hits that spot inside him that lights up his body with fireworks. He throws his head back against the sheets and his voice breaks on a whine so high and breathy that he’ll have to worry about being embarrassed about it later. 

He’s too focused on the white-hot zings of pleasure bouncing every which way inside him, finding their way into the crevices that seem nigh impossible or inconceivable to be reached. 

“Mn, _fuck!_ Right there! It’s- _Ah!_ ”

Bokuto’s responding snarl verges on animalistic, sexy as all hell. “I want you to say my name.”

He glares at him with narrowed eyes, stubbornly snapping his jaw shut. The display of defiance doesn’t deter Bokuto whatsoever. If anything, gleaming gold glows brighter, as if being lit up from within, accepting the challenge with fearless delight.

With a marked snap of his hips, he hammers into Akaashi’s prostate with undaunted intensity. And the one is only followed by many, _many_ more.

“Say. My. Name. _Keiji_.” Every word is punched into him with those incessant thrusts.

“I don’t think you’ve- _Ah-haangh!_ E-earned it… _shit_ -” He grits his teeth through the overwhelming pleasure.

Bokuto growls.

The man releases the hold on his splayed leg to fist Akaashi’s erection, pumping it with ruthless strokes. He yelps at the added sensation.

His moans grow louder in volume. He can feel the demand in the actions. The ‘ _say my name’_ rings loud in the way skin smacks against skin. The obscene, wet squelch of every hard thrust translates the sentiment fluently.

And, _god_ , does he want to bite his tongue. To swallow every syllable in prideful defiance. Really. He does.

But ultimately, he is a traitor to himself. 

Bokuto’s name may just be the sweetest thing to ever touch his tongue.

“ _Kou-Koutarou!_ ”

The gratification rolls off his lover in waves.

“ _Fuck yes_ , baby. You and your sounds are going to be the death of me…” 

It takes effort but he pries his own eyes open to focus on his boyfriend’s. He manages a smug grin. “I wouldn’t want it- _oh!_ \- any other w-way~”

Akaashi sounds half-delirious when he speaks but considering the thorough fucking he’s receiving, he’s honestly doing pretty damn good in the coherency department. 

“You’re a fucking _tease_.” The black and white-haired man enunciates the last word with an emphatic shove into his hole.

Bokuto releases the grip on his cock only to plant his hand on the mattress next to Akaashi’s waist and lean into it. The added leverage allows him to fulfill the lawyer’s cries for _Harder!_ , snapping his hips back and forth, cock reaching to his furthest depths with monstrous determination and a wild type of power. All he knows is Bokuto’s given name and 'more'. Maybe a few curses and some mildly-sensible phrases here and there.

_More, more, more!_

His prostate is being abused with a mind-numbing rigor that he can only dream of replicating with a mere toy, or god forbid, another man. (He almost recoils with displeasure at the notion.)

“K-Kou… I’m close.. So, mm, close!”

He braces himself. The feeling is practically on his doorstep and he knows damn well it’s not going to knock before coming in.

Without warning, a hot mouth latches onto one of his nipples and sucks with abandon, flicking and laving over it with a merciless tongue, giving it the occasional bite and making him yelp with both surprise and approval. His fingers untangle from their death grip in his bedsheets to thread into Bokuto’s hair. Whether to tug him away or pull him closer, his own hands seem to be indecisive about.

His lover migrates up to his mouth and gives him a small peck. His lips murmur against Akaashi’s own.

“Come for me.”

Akaashi doesn’t know if it’s the man’s baritone, the cocky self-assuredness, the hard length assaulting his sweet spot, or just a damn good combination of all three, but he cums. And he cums _hard_.

“ _Koutarou!_ ” His scream echoes throughout the room (hell, probably the house) from coming undone. His back bows and presses him against a solid chest, one that still shakes him from the continuous pounding, riding him through his orgasm.

His thoughts shatter and his emotions crumple like metal in a head-on collision at the intensity of it all. Explosive pleasure traverses the length of his body and his vision goes white as the feeling of euphoria crashes through him.

Ropes of ivory streak all over their chests and even a little gets on his chin. His cock jerks in piteous motions to squeeze out all it has.

Akaashi is reduced to whimpering moans and choked whines, nails scratching angry, red lines across flexing shoulders, until Bokuto finally slows to a halt and pulls out.

He falls back into the sheets in a twitchy heap, looking at his boyfriend with hazy eyes. He notes that the man is still dreadfully hard.

“You didn’t have to stop, Kou… It’s alright for you to keep going until you cum. I want you to.” His lips fall into a small frown.

Bokuto huffs out a laugh and presses a sweet kiss to his forehead before standing back up and sliding Akaashi’s leg off his shoulder.

The mischievous simper thrown his way is unexpected; ferocious intent slinks in the shadows of his irises. A thumb rubs leisure circles into his hip bone. Akaashi is wary of the foreboding gentle gesture.

“Don’t you worry about me, my queen…”

Bokuto’s grin widens into a feral smile. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh _fuck! Y-yes-_ Koutaro- _oooh~ God!_ ”

Akaashi couldn’t give less of a fuck what was coming out of his mouth right now. _Especially_ when Bokuto is plunging into him with that devastating tongue of his.

He moans deep and long into the sheets he’s face-down on; his upper torso is pressed in much the same manner, bearing the weight of his body with his ass in the air.

His lover is situated behind him, calloused fingers spreading the sensitive skin of his asscheeks, nose running the length of his crack as he sucks and laps at his hole with abandon. 

Bokuto has been at this for a while now.

(Though, “a while” is merely an arbitrary grasp on time. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. It could’ve been five minutes. It could’ve been thirty. Don’t know, don’t care.)

He’s being tongue-fucked into a state of unresponsiveness; the agony of ecstasy reduces him to a simple intelligence that knows nothing but the weight of his lover’s hands and the passions of his talented mouth.

Akaashi’s mind is present just enough to process the mess of spit and lube dripping from his entrance and down his quivering thighs. It’s all so filthy. All so delicious; attesting to how well he is being ravished.

He lost count a while ago of how many orgasms he’s had up to this point. They’ve had to switch on his bedside lamp because of how long they’ve been going at it; the setting sun attempting to shroud their debauched antics in darkness.

His lover has made it his life’s mission to send him into spiral after spiral of dizzying pleasure without mercy or repose. He can barely catch his breath.

That said, the devious facet of his character is unfamiliar with self-preservation. He has half a mind to curse and banish it to the corners of his consciousness but… _Where would be the fun in that?_

He tilts his head back at a near painful degree to throw a beguiling glance at the black and white-haired man.

“Think you can- _aahng…_ get another out of me or-” he curses when Bokuto bites into the flesh of his ass, “have you tired yourself out?”

There is a pause of acknowledgment but silence prevails. Bokuto gives a final broad lick from his perineum to the top of his cleft with the flat of his tongue before sitting back on his heels, wiping away the remnants of slick and spit from his face with a slow swipe of his hand. The large palm falls away to reveal a shit-eating grin.

Bokuto doesn’t say anything.

What he _does_ do is lean down to cross a corded arm over Akaashi’s front to haul him up. The lawyer shivers at the feeling of Bokuto’s heated skin against his back, bruised lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

They take a moment; sitting there like that — their lungs fill with the presence of one another.

The beat of his lover’s heart thrums against his back; every inhale presses them ever closer. The room smells like sex and sweat.

He sighs — half content, half impatient.

Right as he reaches an arm to cup behind the man’s head, Bokuto takes both his hips in hand, lifting him up and sheathing himself back inside in one fluid motion.

Akaashi cries out and ensnares his hand in dual-toned locks. His boyfriend gives a light moan of approval at the hard grip; his arousal twitches at the small sound. This position is intimate.

Bokuto is everywhere — behind and around him.

 _Inside_ him.

His back arches out, ass pressing firmer into the man’s lap in an attempt to sink down deeper. His boyfriend takes the cue and fucks up into him with measured grinds; labored groans puff on the nape of his nape. He feels like he’s being roasted by the flames of lust that lick at his body; he feels hot all over, his nipples stiffening and toes curling. This may be the slowest pace they’ve set so far but he’s breathless all the same.

Blunt teeth imprint at the junction of his neck and shoulder and Akaashi lolls his head to the side with an obscene hum at the pinpricks of savory pleasure. He gasps and whimpers with every distinct roll and pulls Bokuto close with involuntary tugs.

“You’re so good to me, Kou~ _Ahh~_ ”

“Yeah? Tell me how, Keiji..”

He bites his lip when his nipple is pinched between a thumb and forefinger.

“You’re, _mm_ , deep… so g-good- oh fuck _yes_ -” He interrupts himself with a long keen when the tip bumps against his prostate. “F-feel you everywhere. Your mouth and hands.. Your cock… _Mmph_ , you’re so _good_.”

Bokuto rumbles a deep and intoxicating moan into the side of his throat; the noise is loud right next to his ear and sends a jolt down to his throbbing dick. 

Something in his words strikes the man somewhere deep. Powerful thighs ripple and flex under him as they double their efforts to drive into him. Akaashi chokes on moans as he ruts back against his lover; his pride refuses to let the other do all the work.

They get drunk on the sensual fever of each other. The wines of sex and impending orgasm course through their veins to hold them aloft, head in the clouds and his eyelashes flutter shut; the hand in his boyfriend’s hair is the only thing tethering him to reality. Akaashi barely registers Bokuto moving them forward in the midst of their frenzy. It’s too hot. Too heavy. And he’s lost in his own body. 

It’s only when he heeds the request to open his eyes does he notice that they are near the head of the bed. In fact, he could bring his chest flush with it if he were to just lean down.

He has questions for _why this spot specifically_ but when one arm crosses over his middle and another reaches past him to anchor on the cushioned headboard, he finds them answered.

Bokuto is nibbling at his earlobe when he asks with a breathless voice, “Is this okay? Do you need anything, Keiji? A break? We’ve been going a while.”

Akaashi finds the inquiry sweet.

But now isn’t the time for sweet.

He cranes his neck to drag his lover into a heated kiss; biting the bottom lip and licking the seam of his mouth. But just as Bokuto opens to deepen the kiss, he pulls back.

“Koutarou,” he locks eyes with burnt gold, “If we take a break, I’m kicking you out of my house. What I need… is for you to _rail me_ until I can’t remember my own name.”

The black and white-haired man is stunned by the force of his words, blinking owlishly at him as he searches for any sort of response, but gets over the shock quickly. Bokuto pulls him into another mind-numbing kiss. In their current position, the kiss lacks any semblance of prettiness. Teeth clack together. His neck hurts a little. But the occasional suck on his tongue and the thorough ravaging of his mouth makes it all worth it.

“I can do that.”

All around him, Akaashi can feel the man’s frame tensing; hands adjust their grip and legs widen just enough to leverage maximum power. 

Everything is measured at first; as if getting back into the swing of things. A wandering mouth takes its time sucking a hickey under his jaw. The hand of the arm around him attends to his nipple with near-teasing circles. The cock in his ass even seems to be skirting around his prostate — the intention to string him tight is clear.

But all lackadaisical pretense is abandoned and the lawyer feels the shift in atmosphere like a drop of a pin in an empty room. The action itself is small but its sound rings volumes.

Somewhere in his distant mind, he thinks, _I really might have to call into work tomorrow._

He’s never missed a day of work but something tells him this time may be nonnegotiable. After all, performing the basic task of walking normally might be a little too much to ask of himself by morning…

And it seems Bokuto is keen on manifesting his concern.

Hips begin reaming into him at a wicked rhythm, unceasing, and he cries out in relief. The lewd sounds of smacking skin mix with their cacophony of erotic noises. 

The tops of Bokuto’s thighs relentlessly slap against the backs of his own; they are sure to be red raw by the end of this. He’s just glad his ass is taking the brunt of the strength being imbued into his body.

Akaashi is getting devoured inside and out and he damn near drowns in the sensations running over him like mounting sand into the bottom of an hourglass, confined by glass walls of lust. It fills his lungs. Clouds his mind.

He releases a torrent of encouraging moans and mindless curses to spur the man on; telling him just how good of a job he’s doing. He may have put aside effort to taunt his lover before but there’s no denying that he surpasses all expectancies.

“Ah…! Shit! _Kou…_ I- Yes- _Mmm!_ ”

A two-toned head drops heavily on his shoulder, losing himself in his body. Bokuto’s groans are hot and heavy on his clavicle and the feeling blooms goosebumps all over.

“Kei- Ji… I think I’m gonna- _nghh-_ cum this time… Feels too g-good- _shit!_ ”

The confession only makes the air crackle with electricity tenfold. His erection jumps in excitement and he whines in reply.

Despite his countless unravelings, Bokuto has yet to come once; happy to ride on Akaashi’s highs to fuel his own sense of fulfillment.

This time will be different. He swears it.

With conviction clouding every nook of his mind, he sets forth.

Akaashi clenches with each slide out of him and pulls the man right back into him with every returning thrust. The actions pull moans of rolling thunder that shake him to his core. Just as much as his own sounds seem to affect his lover, so do Bokuto’s do to him.

He reaches a hand behind them both to dig into the flesh of Bokuto’s firm ass (and _Christ_ , is it firm). Ignoring the yelp of surprise, the lawyer uses his hold to egg the man on. To come closer. To go deeper. To finally reach a climax that will leave them both spent but basking in the afterglow of having lost themselves in one another.

Akaashi is confounded by the bottomless vat of energy his boyfriend seems to pull from but he doesn’t complain when the man drives even faster and, oh, _so much_ harder. It’s a feat of human capability if he has any say in the matter.

The frequency and magnitude at which his prostate is being assaulted, combined with the gorgeous sounds reverberating in the strong chest against his back, is hurtling him towards the edge, wind at his feet and wings on his back. Will he fall or will he fly? The answer to that is something he will soon discover.

The amalgamation of _everything_ is making him lose his mind but out of sheer willpower, he hangs on so to see his goal through. Remembering Bokuto’s reaction to his words mere minutes ago, an idea forms. And he decides to talk.

(Well… as coherently as he can muster anyways.)

“Mmph… _please!_ You’re doing s-so w-well… So good to m-me- _oooh.._ ”

His efforts reap the desired fruits. Bokuto is all ragged breaths and strained groans against the skin of his shoulder where his mouth has taken permanent residence.

The lawyer himself barely has enough air to _breathe_ but risk of fainting be damned. He wants to make his boyfriend feel just as good as he does. And if that means exploiting a possible, newly-discovered praise kink, so be it.

“I- _ah fuck, don’t stop_ \- I love f-feeling you inside m-me like this, _aahn_ ~”

A guttural moan.

“S-so big… You fill me up- _ah!_ \- You’re fucking me so- _good_ …”

A responding whine of his given name.

“Keep fucking me- _oooh_ \- j-just like _that!_ Yes-!”

He’s cut off halfway when his ears are met with the rumble of a vicious snarl and the hips pounding into him fall into an aggressive, erratic tempo. The arm around his middle tightens to a near bruising grip. The hand on the headboard has it in a white-knuckled grip.

He’s close.

They’re _both_ close.

As much as he’s enjoying his time evoking these various reactions from his lover, he can’t hold out much longer either. He feels his lower body contracting; his muscles bracing for impact. With the little vigor he has left, he delivers the lethal blow.

Releasing his hold on Bokuto’s ass, he reaches up to cup the man’s cheek and coax him from his shoulder so that they are facing.

His lover appraises him with heavy-lidded eyes and blown-out pupils. In some places, the man’s black and white hair sticks to his face with sweat and in others, the strands are haphazardly disheveled, sticking every which way. This god of a man has been reduced to an utter mess by him.

Akaashi presses lips to the sticky skin at Bokuto’s throat; his mouth feels the tendons that jump out from the strain. He pours in every ounce of control so that he won’t stutter.

“You’re the best, Koutarou… The best of the best. And _you_ are all _mine_.”

Bokuto surges forward to capture his mouth in a searing kiss. They move together like they have known each other forever. And with the way they’ve spent the last few hours, it’s safe to say that they are at the very least… familiar.

Bokuto kisses like he’ll never let him go. He kisses like he’s stating a promise.

Akaashi’s moans are muted by his lips and swallowed down. The hand he has on the man’s cheek resists when it feels his boyfriend trying to pull away.

“I wanna s-see you, Keiji… I wanna see your face when you come.”

The lawyer’s cheeks dare to pinken in embarrassment even as his mouth curves around a high moan and his hole has the man in a vice grip. The paradox of blushing like a love-stricken high schooler while being railed in the ass is not lost on him, so he just indulges the request; trying his best not to shut his eyes and fall into the dark embrace of violent eroticism.

Bokuto moves a hand down to fist his erection and he bucks into the grip with a choked shout. The slick, vulgar sounds of his boyfriend pumping him to completion join the fray.

“K-Kou… _ngh!_ I th-think I’m g-gonna cum…!”

“M-Me too, baby. _Fuck_ , just a little m-more- _haah!_ ”

The hand on his length picks up speed as the cock in his ass does the same. His lover is channeling all his control into hitting at just the right angle despite the irregular pattern of his thrusts.

Feeling it bearing down on him, Akaashi tangles his fingers back into dual-toned hair and shoots the other out to join Bokuto’s on the headboard. From this point forward, he’s hanging on for his goddamn life.

When Bokuto rubs his thumb behind the crown of his length with imploring urgency, it’s all over.

Everything that has built up into every fibre of his being erupts.

With an explosive cry of the man’s given name, he comes undone. His vision goes white and though he’s looking at Bokuto, he can’t really see him. Reality collapses in on itself, as does his body. He comes harder than he has in the past few hours. Harder than he’s ever come in twenty-seven years of life, painting the headboard and the pillow below them in opaline streaks.

His spine bows at an unnatural angle and his toes curl to the point of breaking. A sensation akin to being struck by lightning sets every nerve under his skin on fire. He tries not to yank on Bokuto’s hair but he’s relatively sure he failed.

(The ecstatic groan he gets tells him it’s entirely okay.)

The man keeps pumping him, milking him for all he’s worth, every drop teased from his weeping cock, and he almost cries in delight from sensitivity.

His vision clears just enough to watch Bokuto’s face as he pounds into his hole. The man looks positively lost in the feeling of Akaashi’s body, a glossy sheen over his eyes, and he basks in the expression of rapture.

“Come for me, Kou~”

What sounds like a garbled shout of Akaashi’s name rips from Bokuto’s throat as he does a final thrust into his wet heat, hips stuttering as he fills up the condom and rides out his high, a mantra of nonsense and noise falling from his bitten lips. Akaashi gyrates his hips to return the favor of milking him dry; pleasured whines of overstimulation escape him with each movement.

It’s all so good. Bokuto’s face. His cock. Them.

_Everything._

They continue with their little rocking motions until impending exhaustion causes them to still completely.

They stay pressed together like that, catching their breaths; Bokuto’s forehead having migrated its way back onto Akaashi’s shoulder, his neck unable to bear the weight anymore.

Releasing the headboard, the both of them fall backwards onto the bed; landing in a heap of limbs with an exaggerated _oof_. Laying here like this, he feels his lover’s heaving chest lifting him up and down and he elicits his own sigh of fatigue and content as the warmth of the body under him permeates into his.

Bokuto’s voice rumbles, the low timbre and gravelly quality spreading a fuzzy feeling all over. “You… Holy shit… You are _amazing_.”

He chuckles only to jokingly ask, “Are you saying that because we just had sex or am I really just amazing?”

“Both.”

The solemn answer makes him pause, only to burst into a fit of giggles.

_Of course he would answer a rhetorical question like that._

In the midst of being overcome by mirth, two arms encircle him in a secure but gentle hold. It feels safe. Dare he say, _cozy_. They remain in a naked embrace, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere together, until Akaashi starts squirming from sticky, sweaty discomfort; his awareness starts taking in how gross they really are. He makes a belated note that Bokuto still hasn’t pulled out yet.

“Kou, I know we’re sleepy but we must clean up before going to bed.”

“‘M not sleepy. I just like holdin’ you.”

The slurred speech gives away the blatant lie but the statement is so adorable that Akaashi wants to vibrate until he explodes with adoration.

_I have to stay strong or we will actually fall asleep here._

The corded arms locked around him pose an obstacle but his conniving mind can find ways around them without useless physical struggle.

“... If you let me go, I will blow you to wake you up tomorrow…” His tone is flippant and he really just said it to free himself. But thinking about it, he would be more than willing to follow through.

Bokuto jackknifes into a sitting position. The abrupt movement jostles him and he gives a small, unintentional moan when the cock in him moves around. He feels his boyfriend freeze.

“Keiji…” The man sounds cautious, like he’s approaching a wild animal, and Akaashi nearly laughs at the absurdity. “If you start making noises and promises like that, we might have to go another round.”

He makes a show of scoffing. “I would sooner kick you out than do that.”

An offended, over dramatic gasp right next to his ear makes him wince. “I was joking! Don’t be meannn!”

He doesn’t entertain the whine with anything more than a roll of his eyes but the smirk on his face removes any bite. Standing up and effectively slipping Bokuto out of him (he stubbornly clenches his teeth so as to not give the man satisfaction of another embarrassing noise), Akaashi spins on his heel to go search for spare sheets.

He’s only a couple steps away when a shy call of his name gives him pause.

“Uh, Keiji…?”

He looks over his shoulder expectantly.

“Did you… Did you really mean what you said earlier?” Bokuto chews at his lips, avoiding his probing eyes.

“I said a lot of things earlier. But yes, I meant every word.”

“So that wasn’t just the, y’know, sex talking? You-” He stops for a moment, hesitant to continue. “Even when you said I’m the best… and that I’m yours…?”

They hold a tense silence for a bit. Akaashi’s gaze roams Bokuto’s face. He sees an expression similar to the one from earlier today; shadows of past troubles etch into the furrow of thick brows and into the tense lines of his shrunken shoulders. He sees insecurity. Doubt. The cause of which may not be his place to ask about yet but he decides that now more than anything, it is not a conversation that Bokuto needs. It’s affirmation. Validation that he is more than willing to give. Any time of the day, every day, for as long as they stay side-by-side.

“ _Both._ ”

It’s his turn to utter the singular word. A whole different weight attached to it.

He enunciates it. _Emphasizes_ it. Packing as much meaning into one word as he possibly can because how could he not when there was just something so undeniably special about it all.

There was something undeniably special about _Bokuto_ — his star and his something _more_.

Akaashi turns his whole body around to face Bokuto; not minding that he’s stark bare. Leaning down, he cradles his lover’s face in two hands, really _looking_ at him with a burning honesty that holds him captive. 

“I meant- no, _mean_ it when I say that you’re the best I’ve been with, in more ways than just sex. I _mean_ it when I say that you are mine. I mean it all. And I’ll mean it every time you need me to say it from here on out.”

His eyes double in intensity. “I acknowledge we’ve only been dating for a day but I am not a man who makes conclusions without premise. Trust in my sincerity, Koutarou.”

Just for good measure, he pecks him on the lips.

(Though it may have been a little self-indulgent. How could he not do that when the man looks so goddamn cute.)

Bokuto looks stunned to silence, as if hearing truth behind those kinds of words for the first time. The lawyer’s stomach roils in discomfort at the thought. _How could anyone_ not _say these things to him? It’s absurd!_

Like the flip of a switch, Bokuto breaks out into the sunniest grin he’s ever seen and holy gods above, it is the most blinding thing on this earth. Looking directly at the sun at high noon would do less retinal damage.

He is suddenly enveloped in a bone crushing embrace and dragged back down on top of Bokuto and back onto the bed.

Bokuto's mouth moves in his hair, the dark strands muffling his speech. “I’m too shy to say this to your face… but I like you a lot, Keiji. I’m really lucky that I’m dating you.”

Akaashi’s eyes widen a fraction, before settling into a warm gaze. He pulls back to grin at his lover. “And I’m lucky to be with you as well.”

“I’m luckier to have you!!”

“Koutarou, not _everything_ needs to be a competition.”

“I said what I said, Keiji! Ha, I win!”

“Oh my god…” he sighs. “Okay, come on, get up. We need to shower and change the sheets before you’re even allowed back on the bed.”

Bokuto takes his lack of riposte to the previous statement as a forfeit (it isn’t) and hollers a victorious whoop before bounding to the bathroom, all fatigue forgotten; booming footsteps practically shake the house. It’s a childish response but it makes him roll his eyes with a reserved type of fondness all the same.

As he gets to stripping the bed, the distant repetitive thrum of water mixed with the echoes of Bokuto humming some pop song washes over him like a wave of tranquility, soothing his spent body and loosening his muscles.

Akaashi’s lips quirk in a soft smile and he hums along.

(“... Bokuto-san! There is cum on the damn pillows!”

“Oh ho no, you don’t! You can’t start using honorifics now! Not after everything we did today!” he hollers from the shower.

“You’re avoiding the question. This is your fault!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about~”

“Bokuto-san.”

“Ah, c’mon, Ji… They’re just pillows!”

Akaashi’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance.

“ _Just pillows?_ These are silk!”

“Yeah? And I’m willing to bet my _bodacious fuckin' ass_ , y’know the one you stare at all time, that you have two entirely new sets of the same pillows in your closet!”

_Oh my god. He knows I stare at his ass._

_… Fuck, he’s right about the pillows too._

“Irrelevant!”

A roaring cackle echoes within the shower walls and out into the bedroom.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY FUCK OKAY DAMN  
> It's been a hell of a long time since the last update. I'm super sorry about that... This semester was quite interesting what with the pandemic and having all my classes online. Not to mention my mental illness being a massive bitch from time to time ~just because she can~. But I made it, and really well! We vibing, my friends :>
> 
> So, uh, yeah. This was my first attempt at smut. I hope y'all found it satisfactory and that it met your expectations. For those of you who have been waiting since like.. August? I'm so sorry, oh my god lmfao. And all of y'all who stuck 'til the end are real ones. I'm very grateful that you took your own time to read some shit I wrote. I put a lot of effort into this chapter specifically because even though I'm a little out of my depth, I wanted to make something that people would enjoy. It's been a wild ride and I hope this story has brought a smile to your face at some point.  
> Don't be a stranger! If you have any critique, feel free to comment it.  
> (I started working on a fifth bonus chapter but am currently on the fence about continuing it. We'll see what happens.)  
> Eat the Rich has come to an end but it is not over, necessarily. I will be making this AU a series and add random installments from time to time. It's not going to be linear. All the installments will just be self-indulgent and exploring what I can do with sex and writing.
> 
> On the note of my writing, I have many more fic ideas on the table. I am currently planning out my next story.  
> It is going to be a Cyberpunk AU that takes place in a world where humans live alongside the automatons they have engineered while simultaneously toeing the line of man and machine themselves. It will be a BokuAka fic (as most of my ideas are right now). Bokuto fights in the arena and Akaashi is a sex worker. The story will have heavy themes of mental illnesses, gender dysphoria, identity crisis, among others. The vibes of this story are going to be completely opposite of Eat the Rich and I have a lot of research ahead of me in order to write the characters and their stories how they deserve. I would love if you stuck around to see it come into fruition.  
> A loose premise (so far):  
> An obstinate man whose ways of life lie rooted in his unshakeable faith for humanity, Bokuto fights as a neo-Gladiator just like others who are crushed underneath the heel of a society that demands a blood payment to fulfill the whims of public entertainment.  
> An automaton who rejects all notions of humanity, even at the cost of himself, Akaashi drifts through a life chained down by perverted hands and the struggle between mind and body.  
> Two people, seeming unlikely to ever find a semblance of compromise or companionship, find each other in this very lifetime. And like buds into flowers, they bloom. Their journeys are not without ravaging thorns and suffocating weeds, but the sun still finds its way down into the depths of their darkness. The light they find in one another is hard-won but with no regrets.
> 
> SO YEAH HAHA super fun stuff... no not really. It's going to be so fucking sad for a long time :') Why do I do this. I legit hate reading angst. Why does nearly every idea I come up with have some sort of angst incorporated? What the fresh fuck is up????  
> Am I ill? Yes. But that's not the point. Someone stop me. Please.
> 
> Anyways, I think I've said enough. Truly, truly, thank you all for coming along on this first adventure of mine.  
> See you on the flip side, gang! I love y'all so much :'> Take care of yourselves, alright?
> 
> \- LowScribe
> 
> =====  
> Special thanks to...  
> Beta-sama:  
> My silver-haired (should I call you Sephiroth instead?), most loving, most roasting, wife, bad bitch extravaganza. You affectionately beat me into writing ch4 and I owe you my firstborn for that. You somehow deal with me and I think that's pretty sick homie. No homo but you're my other half <3  
> Sweets:  
> You are literal sunshine. Days with you are always without rain. Like how the fuck do you do it??? I am immensely grateful that though you are uncomfortable with smut, you still insisted on reading chapter four and gave me genuine feedback. Please marry me?  
> Wench Queen:  
> The vibes you bring every time we do a group reading of the chapters is immaculate. Incredible every time without fail. I owe you a personal apology with how I blue-balled the ever-loving shit out of you for five months lmao. Forgive me?


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